Agent or Assassin
by I'mAGeekNotANerd
Summary: This is a sequel to my story The Funeral. Stella Coulson, Phil's daughter is recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D after being taken by and escaping from traffickers and after her father's "death". She trains long and hard under Romanoff for her ultimate assignment: killing Loki. But in the end, can she do what Fury wants, or will her stronger morals win out? She must choose: Loki or dad.
1. Chapter 1

Deep breaths.

In and out...in and out...

Remember, nothing exists outside of you. You run and run and never stop. Just run. Run, run, run, run. Focus on the task before you. Silence, stillness, peace. Get into position. Brace yourself.

She stopped breathing momentarily, the split second before the whistle blew. Stillness settled down upon the track, all other noise vanished, and she was in her own little sphere.

TWEEE -

She took off running, feet slamming the floor in her wild dash. Stress dropped away and her speed increased to a blinding rate. Run. Run as though the monster is after you. Run as if -

Monster.

Her step faltered.

NO. Focus. Monsters chasing you. Just keep running, just keep running - the high quality security feed rushed into her mind - shove it out, keep running, faster faster - her step faltered again - monsters - Loki - the scepter - the scream -

FOCUS! Her step faltered and was lost.

Coach Rodriguez shook her head in disappointment as the runner ran across the start/finish line, breathing heavily, and considerably slower than she had been at the beginning of the relay. She took one glance at her stopwatch, gave a small sigh, clicked her pen on her clipboard, and scribbled down a time. _One, two, three, four seconds slower._

"Good run girls. Head off to the showers. Remember, we got that meet on Saturday, so don't be late!" she called and all of the students sighed their relief and thanks, walking off, talking to each other about the latest celebrity gossip, the latest news on so and so's boyfriend and how that episode ended the night before.

"Stel, can i talk to you for a moment." The Stella stopped mid step to the door and sighed, waiting for her coach to say something or come up to her. "What's going on? Your times have dropped drastically." She sighed in annoyance and let her gym bag slide off her shoulder and crash to the floor. "You used to be the top runner in the school all three years of high school so far. and on your fourth, you crash and burn. You didn't even make varsity this year. That's a first." The girl made no move to respond and stood there, staring at the far wall behind her teacher, imitating eye contact. "Stel, I'm your coach and I'm your counsellor. There is nothing that you can't tell me and nothing that I can't help you about. What's going on?"

Stella finally made eye contact and a frightening display of a torrent of different emotions, so well mixed that the adult couldn't discern the individual ones.

"You wouldn't understand," she said finally, snatching up her gym bag and walking towards the locker room.

"Stella! Stella, don't count out the help of others that quickly!" her coach called. "It doesn't matter if you tell me now or later, i'll find out eventually, and it will be better for you. It's best to just get it off your chest!" Stella rolled her eyes and continued walking. "COULSON!"

"Good night coach," she retorted, slamming the door behind her. She hated the world. She hated life. She hated everything, she reflected as she changed back into her uniform of sweats for the cold weather. Then, she walked out and braved the hallways.

"Hey, Stella!" she heard a vaguely familiar voice call. "Where were you last week? You weren't at school!" She ignored the question and kept walking.

"Hey, you wanna come over for my eighteenth? No parents, no supervision - " She shoved past the other student, not even taking note of who it was. wasn't like it mattered: she didn't have any friends here. Not anymore. "Did you take his test?! it was so hard! - just was talking with - _omg_, what did he _say_?!" She filtered out the obscure chatter of her school mates, shoving through the crowds, mindless milling beasts, until she was out in the open, free of the oppressive closeness of the indoors.

"Hey, Stel," a more welcome voice called and she looked up to see the security guard walking by. "How's life?"

"Heimlich," she said, smiling. "It's been better." He nodded and smiled at her, walking on. he had always been kind to her in a way that no one else had. Almost as if he knew more about her than he let on.

She stopped abruptly, letting the cool wind brush over her, stinging her face with its sharp caresses. She bowed her head and quickly ran a hand through her cropped hair. Her dad had always loved her long hair..._no, don't think about him. Don't._ _that's why you cut it all off to your shoulders, remember? To forget._

_You're just_ _scared_. Her heart tightened at the voice that sneered at her. _You're weak. That's why you couldn't handle him being gone and going on the way you always have._

_Shut up,_ she thought, striking out at the small voice that nagged at the back of her mind._ Shut up, just shut up._

_Weak. Scared. You could never satisfy him as a daughter, and you know it. He was a great agent, and you, who are you? A star cross country runner, and a good student. What's that to a man who paid the ultimate sacrifice, laid down his life to save -_

_My dad loved me!_

_Weak. Sca -_

"SHUT UP!" she shouted and people looked at her strangely. "God, shut up," she repeated softly, walking to her car, jerking the door open and throwing her gym bag into the far side of the vehicle, sitting heavily in the driver's seat. She grabbed the door and slammed it shut, relishing the hard, loud bang it made. And then, when she was sure that there was no one around, she folded her arms over the top of the steering wheel and began to cry, tears leaving tracks down her face and sobs wracking her body. She reached down and pulled her phone out of her back pack, turned it on and made her way to the voicemail folder, clicking on one from a week and a half ago.

"Hey sweetie, it's me, dad." She closed her eyes and tried not to lose complete control. "I'm just calling to tell you something: I met him. I met _the _Captain America, and you were absolutely right: I made myself look like a complete idiot." Coulson laughed and through her tears Stella began laughing to. "I told him that i watched him while he _slept_, i mean, how much creepier can you sound?" He laughed again in embarrassed amusement and Stella bit her lip, trying not to go into borderline hysteria. "Oh well, i can always try again. I'm calling you from the helicarrier, we got all the avengers on board, and let me tell you that in and of itself is looking to be an adventure..." Then, his tone grew serious.

"I'm just calling you because i've got a bad sort of feeling. I would call mom, but we both know that she would just freak out, and we can't have that, not so close to Christmas, can we? She's already wound up tight enough as it is. Anyways, I've got this gut feeling...We have Loki on board and he's up to something. Something bad. And i can't help but feel that - well, I'm just saying that if the worst happens - " he stopped speaking. "Ah, don't listen to me. I'm just being a paranoid old man. I'll be back after this, Fury's granted me an advance time off when this mess had blown over. Don't tell mom, though, i want it to be a surprise. I just want you to know that i love you so much Stella. Don't you ever change. You are my perfect little angel and I'll always love you. Just remember that. And nothing will keep me away from you and mom for long." He paused. "Just keep telling yourself that." He sighed and she could almost see and could most definitely feel the smile that she knew had been on her dad's face when this phone call had been made. "I know you'll be top runner in school again. And i wish i could make it to your first race, but i think that this might go on a lot longer than that. I'll do my best to be there, but, you know, do your duty to queen and country, eh? Be safe, be strong, and remember that you are my daughter. Crap, okay, Fury's coming i got to go. Take care sweet heart, i love you! See you soon!" The phone beeped and Stella took several deep breaths, finger hovering over the number 7.

"To repeat the message, press 1. To delete the message, press 7. To call back, press - " She bit her lip and pressed down. "Message erased."

"I'm sorry daddy," she whispered sadly, putting her phone in her backpack and twisting the key in the ignition. "I'm sorry." Outside, two men watched from the shadows as she pulled out of her parking spot and the black car began moving towards the street. The taller of the two pulled out a walkie talkie and said lowly,

"10-5 Schmidt. Polaris under surveillance, shadows lengthening."

"10-4. Over and out." The man turned off his transceiver and smirked at his companion, making sure his hat was pulled low over his face.

"Let's see what would happen if we followed this little angel? I'd hate for a good investment to be wasted in a boring conundrum of life, wouldn't you agree?"

"That's a good idea, Nyx," the shorter one said obediently, nodding his head and wringing his hands like a humble servant.

"Excuse me," came a sudden voice and they turned around to see a school security guard walking up to them. "Sirs, may i ask what you're doing on school property?" Nyx angled his head up and allowed the barest amount of light to touch his features. Overall he painted a very menacing image, long black trench coat and black clothing underneath. A putrid smell seemed to just radiate off of him.

"Son, you may want to walk away right now," he growled and the young man stopped, unnerved by what he saw under the brim of the hat.

"Look, you may have a messed up face, but you aren't scaring me. You need to leave," he said, admirably confident.

"Oh well, Vaul. We did our best, we should be going now," the obvious leader, Nyx, said condescendingly. "Although it would be a shame not to commend this gentleman for his bravery..." Vaul, his smaller, skulking companion giving a pure evil smile up at his master. "I thought you would agree."

"What are you - " the security guard began, raising his arm to defend himself but with a deft, quick move, and a sickening crack, the man fell to the floor, neck broken, eyes sightless. Nyx sighed.

"The first kill is always a good feeling, wouldn't you agree?"

~'*'~

Stella tapped her fingers along with the music playing from her radio, humming along to Pachelbel's Canon in D. It was a rather long drive from school to her backwoods home and the snow was making her nervous. Visibility was always a problem when storms like this began blowing in. She looked down at her phone as it began buzzing and sighed as she saw it was her mom. Reaching over without looking, she picked it up and held it up to her ear.

"hey mom."

"Stella, where are you? You're usually home by now, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong mom, i just was a little delayed in getting out of school, practice ran a bit late, and the visibility's getting a little difficult out here."

"I know, right? The weather man says we're supposed to get a small blizzard today. Drive safe sweet heart, where are you?"

"I'm just passing Old May's house. I"ll be home in about five minutes."

"Okay, sweet heart. I'll have some hot chocolate waiting for you," she heard her mom say before her line crackled and went dead. _That was strange_...she thought to herself as she looked down at her phone. At that moment, some poor soul stumbled out into the street in front of her and, with a cry of fear and panic, she slammed the breaks and threw the wheel to the side, skidding around the person who fell to his knees in cowering fear and probably shock. She sat there, panting and grabbed her phone, getting out of the car and running through the snow, wrapping her scarf tighter around herself in the sharp cold.

"Oh my god, i am so sorry!" she cried, picking up the stranger's fallen hat and running over to him. "Are you okay?" The tall man sat there, bent over himself as though he were praying, trembling in either the cold or fear, she couldn't tell which. "Sir, are you alright, did i hurt you?" she asked again, putting a hand on his shoulder. Then, with speed too quick for her to react to, the man's head snapped up and his hand snaked around to grab her wrist and twist her arm behind her back, slamming her face first into the snow. As she kicked and screamed, flailing her legs and arms trying to break loose, the man leaned down so that she could see his face and she froze.

His face was a mess of scars to the point where it was almost unrecognizable as a human.

"You will do as i say. Or you'll end up like that young man Heimlich you were talking to: snapped neck," he snarled and she stopped struggling, lying there, terrified. "Good." he yanked her to her feet and immediately a calloused smelly hand was clammed over her mouth and nose effectively cutting off her air supply and any means of screaming for help. At the loss of air, she involuntarily kicked and he bent her head back. "Now, don't struggle with me." She stopped and looked at the sky in a silent plea for help. She was dragged off into the side of the road, and forced into the back of a truck where several other men were waiting.

"Nice pick, Nyx," one of them laughed. "She'll fetch you a high price in the markets." Her blood ran cold as the door slammed shut and the vehicle roared to life. Traffickers. She had been hearing about what they had been doing, their activity spiking over the past few months. She took stock of her surroundings. All of them had knives, no guns that she could see. They were in a mini van with tinted windows and there were a total of five people in the car with her, driver included. She took a deep breath and looked at her hands in her lap.

_Be safe, be strong, and remember that you are my daughter._ She was Phil Coulson's daughter. What was she doing here, sitting calmly? She looked up and made her decision. Just as she stood up however, the whole van spun out throwing almost everyone to the ground.

An outside watcher would have simply seen a van full of screaming adults and a driver who was rather skilled at keeping control of a car in snow with his passengers going insane. However, a closer examination would show two arrows in the back tires with small explosives as the arrow heads, the red lights flashing just beneath the rubber. And on the inside, a whole different scenario was unfolding.

Stella was learning that she was actually very good at keeping her balance as she was fighting in a moving car and she was very thankful for that. Her captors however weren't as skill and their clumsy strikes with their switchblades easy to avoid, sending them crashing into the walls of the car and finally, into each other as the she realized that they were easy to push as well. She grabbed cups, crowbars, anything, and struck at them, delivering hard, quick blows. Nyx, the one who had taken her, however was simply sitting there, watching her bemusedly.

"Do you really think that you're getting out of this, girl?" he asked, suddenly standing upright and grabbing her arms, holding her immobile. "You are going no where and you just got yourself a whole lot of punishment. I'll make sure your owner knows about it and you can payoff your punishment to him." The men around them moaned and rolled on the floor of the car and she snarled, bringing her foot crashing back into his knee cap and twisting her body violently, throwing him to the ground. At the same time, the back of the car was practically torn open and a man with a bow jumped into the back of the van, pulling an arrow and aiming it at Nyx's head.

"Nyx, I hereby order you to stand down," he said loudly. "And hand the girl over, she isn't yours."

"She isn't yours either!" he shouted belligerently, hand still firmly latched on her ankle.

"She's nobody's. Nobody's except her mother and father's, you hear me? So hand her over or you're getting an arrow between the eyes!" Nyx released her foot and she staggered forward, finally seeing her rescuer's face in the car's half light and froze in incredulity. "Nyx, by order of S.H.I.E.L.D., i am authorized to retrieve your most recent victim if any, and neutralize." With that, he grabbed Stella by the arm and leaped out of the back of the car, crashing and rolling through the snow as the van exploded in a violent inferno from another four explosive arrows that had been shot there while they had been driving without the gang noticing.

"Well, that's one more unpleasant group taken care of," Clint said wryly, standing and brushing himself off. "You okay, miss?" he asked, holding a hand down to her. "I was watching you in there, you did pretty well. Have you ever taken karate or something like that?" he asked, interested. "You fight like one of my old coworkers did: using what he had around him." She took his rough hand and stood up, looking at him in surprised disbelief in the headlights of the approaching S.H.I.E.L.D. car.

"B - Barton?" she whispered. "Are - are you Agent Clint Barton?" Barton's eyes narrowed and then widened as he dragged her farther into the light. "You _are_," she breathed. "You ar - it _is_ you." She'd only seen him at the funeral and from her dad's pictures, but she knew him none the less.

"Stella Coulson?" he asked in disbelief and was tackled by a hysterical, emotionally drained teenager who practically began sobbing into his uniform, clinging to him like he was the last living thing on that road.

"We found their victims' car a while back," came another voice, a woman's, and Natasha Romanoff came walking out of the government car, stopping as she saw Barton holding a girl close to him. "We're...tracing the owner...what's going on here?" Barton looked over his shoulder at her still in disbelief.

"It's _Phil's_ daughter," he said in a hoarse voice. "They took _her_." Romanoff walked over and shone a flash light in the girl's face, expression sympathetic and grim.

"You're going to be okay now," she said softly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "We've got you. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s got you. We're going to get you home." Stella nodded and stepped away from Barton, allowing them to lead her back down the road for a few minutes to her car. "We'll drive you back. We're all clear here," she said to her microphone in her ear and unseen by them, the car drove off to meet them at the Coulson homestead. "You'll be okay, Stella. You're safe." All the teenager could do was nod numbly. For that was all she felt.

Numb.


	2. Chapter 2

**Enjoy! please read and review!**

When Clint drove the black vehicle up to the driveway of the hidden away, homey two story, he could see a familiar, kind faced woman standing on the porch, hands wringing fearfully as she yelled at one of the Agents about something. Even through the quickly thickening snow, he could see her wildly gestictulating, ready to stand her ground in the cold against the increasingly uncomfortable man before her he soon recognized to be Sitwell. Figured that Coulson would marry someone who had the guts to yell at S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel.

"What do you mean she's okay?" she shouted, the air clouding in front of her from her breath. "She was just taken by _traffickers_, and you're telling me she's _okay_?!" Sitwell held his hands up at shoulder length, trying to placate her. _Why was it that Coulson's wife had to be such a handful?_ he wondered to himself in exasperation. _Then again, that kinda answers itself._ "She's not _okay_! She's scared, she's terrified, don't just give me an _okay_!"

"Ma'am, we're bringing her home right now, she's really, truly safe," the agent tried to tell her, but she was having none of it until she saw her daughter's car pull up into the driveway and two people she recognized as Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton stepped out of the passenger and driver's seats to help Stella out of the back of the car.

"Oh my god," she whispered and ran out into the falling snow. "Stella?! Stella, oh my god!" The shorter woman wrapped her arms around her daughter and fought back the tears she felt threatening to spill over.

"Mom," the girl choked out, holding her mother close. Clint gave a small smile before saying,

"Mrs. Coulson, maybe you should bring her inside. She's had a very trying day." Lynne nodded vigorously, taking her shawl off and throwing it around Stella's shivering shoulders.

"Thank you two so much. I am so glad you two were the ones..." she began softly. "Phil wouldn't have wanted any one else to find her."

"The feeling's mutual, ma'am," Barton answered, knowing that Romanoff wasn't going to respond. Coulson's wife nodded and smiled her thanks once more before wrapping her arms around her daughter's shoulders and guiding her towards the house. Then, at the porch, right before the door, Stella pulled back.

"Mom, wait - " Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly as she watched the adolescent carefully.

"No, you come right back inside, you can't stay out in this cold any longer - "

"Mom." Lynne looked up at her daughter slightly since her baby girl was taller than she was by an inch and saw Phil's stubborn expression in her face. "Just give me a minute." She nodded and rubbed her girl's arms a few times before letting her out of her grasp and watching her turn around and walk back to the two agents. Despite her soaking wet attire, she was surprisingly steady, not shivering in the cold. Barton raised an eyebrow at her as she came trudging back over and gave a shaky smile.

"Thank you. Both of you, and especially you, Agent Barton. Thanks for," she burrowed down in her jacket and gave a small smile that twisted the agents' hearts, "you know, saving my ass." Barton couldn't help but smile.

"No problem. Could become a habit you know," he added pointedly and walked back to the agency car, getting in and slamming the door. The two cars drove off, leaving her in the driveway as she turned and hurried back into the house.

_Could become a habit you know. _What on earth was that supposed to mean?

"Oh my god, Stel," her mother whispered, holding her tightly and closely. "I was so scared when i saw them pull up." She hugged her mother tightly back and allowed herself to be rocked back and forth. "I thought - i mean, so soon after Phil, I - " She was floundering and the high schooler knew it.

"It's okay mom, I know," she whispered and her mother's heart broke at the familiar way that her daughter phrased things: she was more like her late husband than the child herself knew. "I'm, going to go up to my room and change, I'll be right down." her mom nodded and pulled away from her, smiling comfortingly.

"Okay. I'll get you that hot chocolate i promised you on the phone," Lynne called as she watched her daughter run up the stairs, pulling her track and field jacket off and entering her room. When she was sure the door was closed firmly and locked she walked over to her bed and fell back onto the covers, taking in shaky breaths, trying not to be too loud as she cried. The full import of what had almost happened to her was finally sinking in and she hated the cold feeling burning inside of her.

_Get a grip. You are not weak. NOT weak, pull yourself together,_ she whispered to herself in her mind and in her frustration grabbed her textbook that was sitting on her bed and hurled it at the wall. _PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!_

"Stella, you okay?" her mom called from downstairs and she quickly straightened up, swiping the back of her hand across her eyes.

"Coming mum!" she shouted and quickly changed into her skirt and warm pullover sweater, opening her door and hurrying downstairs. "I just dropped a book, it was nothing. Nothing to worry about."

"Okay, it was just a bit loud," she said, leaning into the doorway to smile at her daughter. "You just go sit down on the couch, I'll be right over." Stella nodded and walked around the staircase, letting her hand trail on top of the slick dresser surface. However, her fingers stilled on top of a picture frame and she picked it up, staring at it in her hands as she made her way to the couch, sitting down and drawing her feet up under her.

"How was track practice today?" she vaguely heard her mom call. "I hear that your speed is still well known."

"It went okay," she responded, half-paying attention as she still stared at the object in her hands. "I'm slowing down though."

"Really?" her mom asked surprised. "You've always been running, ever since you could walk. What's going on?" Stella sighed and let her hand trace over the couple sitting together, smiling, happy. And stopped over her father holding her on his knee.

"I guess I've just decided to take life a bit slower," she answered finally and her mom walked around the corner, two steaming cups in her hands and she smiled sadly up at her mother. "Just looking at the picture." Lynne smiled in response and settled down beside her daughter, passing over her cup.

"Careful, it's still hot," she said as a habitual warning and looked over the young woman's shoulder at the picture. "You were just two years old in that. Always messing around with him. Hiding his things, and the like. One time, i remember you spilled your milk on his report that he had spent all night working on." Lynne began laughing and shook her head. "He was so mad...until he saw you standing there, eyes wide, half-empty cup in your hands. He couldn't stay angry at you. Ever. He loved you so much, remember that."

"He called me you know?" Stella said suddenly, setting the picture on the table. "Right before - " she coughed and took a steadying breath. "Right before the helicarrier was attacked. He told me that he had a bad feeling. To remember that i was his daughter, and to keep running fast...to stay me." She shook her head numbly. "I didn't pick up. It was during school, so...i didn't pick up."

"It's okay, sweet heart. Worrying and moaning about it now isn't going to fix anything," Lynne said gently. "Now, you've had a long day. Drink your hot chocolate, take a shower, and head off to bed." Stella nodded and rested her head on her mother's shoulder. "Love you mom."

"Love you too, angel." They sat in comfortable, compassionate silence and when Stella stood up and walked up the stairs, Lynne didn't try and stop her. Instead, she just watched as she walked out of sight and the bathroom door shut. The woman sighed and looked down at the picture on the coffee table before her and smiled sadly.

"She still needs you, Phil," she whispered before standing and walking over to the kitchen to do the dishes and take care of the last chores that had to be done. Work always took her mind off of things.

~'*'~

Stella had been tossing fitfully in her bed for the past three hours, nightmares of a high definition security feed marring her sleeping mind.

_Shall we find out__? She was frozen beside her father as she saw Loki vanish and appear beside her, ramming the scepter through the agent's chest. He fell to the ground and Loki walked by her, oblivious to the fact that she existed. As though she were just a shadow eavesdropping. But just like he had every night this dream came, her dad's eyes pinned her down and he tried to say something to her, reaching a hand out for help. She heard nothing though and could only watch in horror as her father died right in front of her, with no way to stop it with no way to reverse it, rewind time. She was powerless to stop it all and she heard her name whispered and looked around to see her mother lying on the ground, eyes open and sightless, stabbed and killed in the same way as her father. That was something that she had never seen before in this nightmare and she screamed in terror. She felt the rough hands of the trafficker Nyx grab her shoulders and spin her around to face him. His scarred face was even more horrific in real life. An arrow came flying past her head and buried itself up to the fletchings in his throat and she backed away, retching in horror and at the black blood that splattered over her. then, she heard a scream behind her and saw Barton fall forward by her father, Loki having struck him down too. Everyone she knew who she loved or had helped her were dying, getting murdered like her father had been._

_Beside her again in the blink of an eye, Loki laughed at her and gave that cold-blooded, sadistic smile of his. She tried to run, to rely on her speed, but as always, when can you run? When can you run in your nightmares? The god laughed at her futile attempts to flee away from him and saw him place a hand on her shoulder and bring his arm back, moving it forward -_

She took in a sharper breath than usual and opened her eyes. She was lying on her side and it was still pitch black and a quick glance at her watch showed that it was twelve thirty at night. Splendid. She took deep breath after deep breath to slow her racing heart and realized her shirt was soaked with cold sweat. She had been having a pretty bad response to her nightmare then. Suddenly she grew cold inside, and an inexplicable sensation filled her: one of being watched. Careful not to make anymore noise or movement, she looked at the mirror doors of her closet and began scanning the reflection of her room, eyes passing over and snapping back to her desk. She tried to quiet her breathing, squinting at an unfamiliar shape sitting in her desk chair, facing her bed. Staring straight at her, yet as still as a statue. Heart thundering like a drum in her chest, she turned onto her back and sat up, looking at the person sitting in her room.

"Who are you?" she whispered, voice hoarse. The intruder slowly tilted her head and the moonlight from the open window - so that's why she was cold - shone on the short red hair and the girl gave an annoyed sigh of relief. At the noise, the "intruder" straightened her head. "Oh, it's you." Romanoff didn't respond and just stared at her eerily again. "How long have you been here?" Another long silence.

"Five minutes," she finally said in her soft, low, yet dangerous voice. Stella nodded, trying to make heads or tails of the situation.

"So...what do most people do by this point?" Stella asked, still baffled at why this was happening. Romanoff tilted her head to the side again.

"Most people are dead by this point." The girl nodded and cleared her throat.

"So I guess you're not here to kill me." Romanoff stood in an sudden, yet graceful way, swinging her feet back down to the ground from where they had been drawn up to her chin and holding a letter out to her. Tentatively, Stella reached out and took it, looking at it in puzzlement. "What's this?" Natasha turned around and walked back over to the desk, climbing soundlessly from the chair to the table to the windowsill and perching on the latter with complete balance.

"Fury wants you to look that over. I'll be back around at the same time three days from now. He wants your decision by then." The Agent rose, about to jump.

"Wait, what decision?" she called quietly and the adult stuck her head back in the room.

"Best not let your mom see that envelope," she responded and Stella vaulted out of bed and ran to the window as she saw the agent jump. Romanoff fell down into the lawn, somersaulting to break her fall and then slinking off into the shadows, vanishing from sight almost immediately.

"That's insane," the girl whispered finally after gawking for about a minute, looking down at the letter in her hand. _Best not let your mom see that envelope...Fury wants you to look this over...he wants your decision by then...Might become a habit..._

_No..._she thought in fearful disbelief, looking at the pristine white envelope as though it were a mysterious package that either contained a bomb or a cure to all of the world's problems.

~'*'~

"She get it?" Fury asked as Romanoff stepped up beside the car, dusting the little snow that was on her off before getting inside the black vehicle.

"Delivered." Fury looked at her dryly.

"Did you deliver it _without_ giving her a heart attack?" She raised an eyebrow at him and looked back out of the windshield.

"She handled it well, especially having just woken up from a nightmare." The Director rolled his eyes at the evasive response and began driving. Silence stretched out between the two and the agent looked distinctly uncomfortable with the one eyed man driving. Then, she broke the tense silence rather abruptly.

"I think that she would be a good addition to the force, sir. You saw the footage yourself of how she can keep her head in a crisis. She didn't even break afterwards when she got in the house until she was in her room alone, and even then, it was brief. That's impressive for a girl her age and with what she's been through."

"Is it?" Fury asked seriously, looking at her. "Sure she can fight well in a car by using other people and what's around her, but that isn't exactly hard to do is it?" Romanoff didn't answer. "I'm trusting you and Barton on this one, and i can't say that i did it entirely unbiased. Had this been some other random child, i would have said no." This time the Russian woman looked at him curiously. "The reason i said yes...well, I think it's unconsciously understood that we all would feel more comfortable with another Coulson back with us."

"He gave the agents confidence, especially the new ones," Natasha said finally, looking at the passing landscape until they came to a quinjet landed in the middle of the school parking lot. "It's something that the recruits could use again. Because Barton sure as hell isn't good at that, in fact they all look like they're going to cry when they hear that Barton's going to be training them for the day." Fury gave a short humorless laugh.

"No, he sure as hell ain't." They pulled up along side the jet and the two of them got out and boarded. "When we get back to the main base, I have business to attend to. Don't interrupt me or come looking for me no matter what it is." Romanoff nodded and got in the pilot's seat. There was something about that request that bothered her. He had been giving it more and more often as of late and was gone for longer and longer each time.

"Yes sir." The engines revved up and they rose above the woods, and in her bedroom, a specific girl watched as the now familiar style of plane took off. And she couldn't help but look at the letter one more time.

"You could leave it all behind. Be part of something bigger. Something important," she said to herself and for once, that doubting, nagging little voice didn't respond.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun filtered through the frosted over window, glaring off of the snow piled up on the sill. And while it was a cold, harsh winter world outside, it was warm and pleasant in the house. At hearing the first of the larks singing in the cool dawn, Stella rolled over blinking against the light, sighing and sitting up, stretching her legs out in front of her. Sitting up against her backboard, nestling in the pillows a bit, she looked over at the night stand beside her. The white envelope with her name and address on the back and the corresponding address to Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division (which was probably a hoax address) seemed to be beckoning her and she reached over, picking it up, turning it thoughtfully in her hands. Then, making a decision, she tore open the top, pulling the typed words out of their secure pocket. Flipping it open, she began reading.

_Ms. Coulson:_

_You have been selected for admission and are requested to report to your representative Agent of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division on December 30th, at 12:30 AM Daylight Savings time._

_You are to be congratulated on this opportunity for admission into The Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division for it comes only to a select few of the world's people. It presents a challenge that will demand your best efforts. Therefore, it is suggested that you give serious thought to your desire of a military career as, without proper motivation, you might find it hard to conform to what may be a new way of life_

_Wishing you a full measure of success and satisfaction as a member of S.H.I.E.L.D. and later as a commissioned officer in our armed services of not only America, but the world, I am_

_Sincerely yours:_

**_Director Nicholas Fury_**

Well then. Taking a deep breath, she sat there, staring at the paper in her hand. _What are we going to do?_ the voice asked her, almost in awe. She didn't answer and stared at the paper that would decide her fate. A knock sounded on her door and her heart jumped, adrenaline racing through her.

"Stella? It's mom, I'm coming in - "

The girl frantically shoved the paper under her pillow and sat back heavily against it, folding her hands over her lap just as the door opened. Her mom looked at her strangely as she came in, noting the tense position and the too innocent look on her face.

"Everything okay?" The girl nodded, forcing herself to relax.

"Yeah, all good." Her mom came over and sat on the bed by her feet. She usually never did that unless she had something serious she wanted to talk about. That couldn't wait until they were eating breakfast downstairs. Like her dad's funeral. And what they were supposed to do with all of his belongings. "Something wrong?"

"Sarah next door said that your window was open last night, i just wanted to make sure everything was okay." _Crap._ Stella nodded, feigning innocence.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I was just bored last night, couldn't sleep, so I opened the window to look out. Snowed late into the night again." _Shut up, idiot, you're babbling, first sign that you're lying_, the voice hissed to her and she tried to look nonchalant about the window fiasco. Her mom nodded and patted her leg. She seemed to be looking down at something only she could see, almost distracted. Finally, she looked up and made eye contact with the young woman seated on the bed before her.

"You sure you want to go to school today? I just got a call that the security guard was murdered," she asked concerned. Stella nodded.

"I know. That man Nyx told me last night in the car." She decided it wouldn't be wise to tell her mom that she had been told that with her face shoved into snow and being threatened that her neck would be snapped if she didn't cooperate. That would cause a whole other fiasco, not to mention some psychiatrist meetings, and all of that other fun stuff.

"I don't think you should go to school, Stel. After what happened last night, i just want you to stay near home." She looked up at her mom and saw the parental fear and almost a guarded expression. "I don't want anything else to happen to you." Stella swung her legs out of bed and wrapped her arms around her mother, taking comfort in the return hug, feeling her mom's long hair draping over her arms, enveloping her in the scent of the shampoo that she had used as far back as the girl could remember: the smell of home and of comfort.

"I'll be okay mom," she whispered and took a deep breath. "I've got daddy's genes in me, I'll be fine." Lynne nodded and hugged her closely before standing and moving to the doorway, pausing before she shut it.

"Well, get dressed quick. I've got pancakes ready for you downstairs." Stella nodded and got up, her mom closing the door once she was satisfied that her daughter truly was getting out of bed. Deeply concerned, Lynne continued downstairs, hands forming those tell tale knots in her skirt, as she contemplated what Sarah had also told her.

That a black form had been seen climbing up, _into_ Stella's room, and leaving again, Stella actually _watching_ it go. And then going off to sleep again after closing the window. There was something that her daughter wasn't telling her. And if there was one thing she learned from being married to Phil, it was how to get information. Regardless of how closely guarded it was.

Stella sighed and pulled on her shoes. She didn't feel comfortable, going on with the conundrum of life. Not after the events of last night. Not after getting kidnapped by traffickers, hearing that an acquaintance was murdered, getting her own life threatened, and subsequently being saved by her father's colleagues and then getting a recruitment letter from them. Life was not meant to be that complicated, she reflected. _Ever._

Then again, where would her dad's organization come in? How many other organizations were there out there, that dealt with stuff like this every other day? She lived in a world of superheroes, and she realized that she had become detached from that fact. She was being given an opportunity on a freaking silver platter to become part of that world, and she was contemplating turning it down? What the hell was wrong with her? _  
_

Shaking herself out of her reverie, she grabbed for her backpack and realized that it had been left in her car. Stella turned around to go and grab her phone out of its charger by the and then remembered that her phone had been dropped out in the snow. Sighing in aggravation, she turned to her desk to grab the text books she knew were there and stopped as she saw her phone sitting there on her honors calculus book. She picked it up and noted that there was a missed call on it. Curious, she selected it and was surprised to hear her dad's voice mail back again. A text alert was flashing and she scrolled through to the Messenger icon, clicking on it. A single message from a blocked number stared her in the face.

_Don't count him out so fast._

"O..kay," she said, border line nervous and crouched on the ground to hide the envelope between her mattress and one of the boards. Hopefully no one would notice it there.

~'*'~

"Ready for breakfast?" she heard her mother call from her position by their big window into their one acre backyard. The sound of the cello began, a sad, melancholic sound.

"Mom, you haven't been playing anything happy lately," she commented as she served herself and sat down, practically inhaling her food. Her mother didn't answer for a while and finally settled with a simple,

"That music was for your father." Choosing to avoid the topic, Stella continued to chew her food, looking out into the crystalline, white, "winter wonder land" as the songs called it. "I'm going to drive you to school today." The girl sighed and set her fork down.

"Mom, I'm _fine_. It's not like traffickers are targeting me and are going to nab me the moment I step out of the house. I can handle myself."

"Like you handled yourself when they grabbed you the first time?" she asked sharply, turning to face her daughter. "Had S.H.I.E.L.D., as much as i hate them, not shown up - "

"Mom, Agent Barton _blew them up!_ I'm _fine!_ and I didn't do so bad myself, thank you very much!" A long silence stretched out between them and her mom stood up and walked into the kitchen, starting to fuss with the dishes in the sink before she gave up and just braced her arms on the counter, looking down at herself.

"Did they tell you that?" she whispered, looking up at her daughter. "Did they tell you that you did a good job? That you would be a perfect _one of them_?"

"Uh, Agent Barton...hinted that he thought i did well - " the girl answered carefully, looking down at her food. Lynne's eyes smarted with tears.

"You get off on it too, don't you?" her mom interrupted, in a voice that said she wanted a straight forward answer.

"What?!" she asked, setting her fork down and staring at her mother, a million _different_ interpretations of that phrase popping into her mind.

"The danger. The thrill of the chase. The adrenaline rush - you like it. Just like your father did. And a lot of good it did him!"

"Dad was _doing his job!_"

"It got him _killed!_ And what, you - you want to go off and play the superhero too? You want to go off and get yourself caught and nearly sold into slavery, is that what you want to go off and do with your life?

"I wasn't exactly _thrilled_ last night, mom - "

"You weren't exactly _traumatized_ either!" the adult countered, turning to face her daughter. "You acted like nothing happened - "

"Because nothing really happened!" the girl protested. "If they had gotten so far as - as to drug me and put me up for auction or something like that, sold me to someone, _then_ i would be traumatized. But nothing happened! They grabbed me, put me in a car, I fought back, Barton showed up, saved me and _blew_ _them up_! End of story! NOTHING happened! That's why I'm not trembling under my bed jumping at shadows!"

"I don't want to be fighting with you over this right now, Stella - "

"I don't either, you started this!" Silence reigned over the house and the girl got up and grabbed the keys from the hook on the wall, and jerked open the door, slamming it shut. Her mother hurried after her, flinging the door open.

"Stella, Stella, where are you going - "

"I'm going to _school, _mom. I'm going to be fine, and I'll prove it to you!" she shouted over her shoulder and her mom ran out to her and turned her around, wrapping the angry girl in a hug.

"Stella, i just...I just want my little girl. They took my Phil from me, i want my little girl," her mom whispered, voice choking up as she tightened her grip and combatted the tears threatening to spill over. "You hear me? I want my little girl." Stella pulled back, anger still there, but not a burning inferno that had threatened to burn her up from the inside out.

"I'm not your little girl anymore though," she said and her mom nodded, holding her at arms length.

"I know. That's why I'm telling you now that I know i won't win. You'll go off into the world. Grow up." _More than you know_, the girl whispered to herself in her mind and walked to the car, getting in and pulling out of the driveway, sticking her head out to call to her mom,

"I'll try not to grow up so fast then." Lynne laughed and looked up at the sky briefly to clear the tears from her eyes.

"You already have. Just know..." The woman looked conflicted. "Just know that I'll always be here for you to tell me anything. I'll love you no matter what. No matter what you chose. And you can talk to me about anything. And everything."

_Crap. She's figured it out._

"I know mom. See you after school." The car pulled out of the driveway fully and once the girl was out of sight, Lynne turned around and hurried back into the house, slamming the door and rushing upstairs, head pounding. She hoped more than anything that she was wrong. Steeling herself for anything she might find, she walked into her daughter's room and began looking. She knew she would find it. That same white pressed letter. That same paper, that same printer with the smudge over the _a_'s.

All she had to do was find it.

~'*'~

When Stella pulled up in her spot in the school parking lot and stepped out, she could see that there was something off. Something wrong. Police were milling around, interviewing staff and students, writing details of what they said, and speaking into walkie talkies. And then, she noticed with consternation, there was a portion of the side of the school closed off with caution tape, and an ambulance parked by it. She walked on, steadfast in her step and pace, as the police and paramedics lifted the frozen body from the ground and slid it onto the gurney. A blue security guard's uniform caught her eye and she looked back in front of her.

"Stel!" a voice called and she turned around to see Casey running over towards her, long blonde hair as straight pressed as usual and face covered in layers upon layers of make up. Needless to say, she irked the daughter of the Son of Coul to no end. But she faked a smile and stopped, waiting for the girl to catch up. "Did you hear? That new security guard we got was killed last night! You know, the hot one?"

"You mean Heimlich," she said seriously, walking. She hated it when people called him hot. She didn't know why, but it seemed as though people were focusing too much on people's appearances these days. "I know. My mom got a call."

"The police want to talk to you," Casey continued. You were the last person to talk to him before he was killed according to the security feeds. Do you know who killed him? I mean this is so _cool_! it's like some sort of crime TV show just landed in the middle of boring old Oregon - "

"Could you show some respect?!" Stella snapped angrily, turning to face her startled fellow senior. "A man was _killed_ and you're just acting like it's some cool special effects! He's _dead_. He had _family_. _Friends_. Maybe a wife, a girlfriend, or something!" She glared at the girl before her and couldn't stop the words from coming out. "Stop hiding behind your makeup; your bleached hair that looks like it was ironed; and your super short skirts and low cut shirts. Get a backbone and some self esteem, and for goodness' sakes, WAKE UP TO THE WORLD AROUND YOU!" She shouted the last words and Casey gaped at her before running off in tears. The girl looked torn between running after her or going to the police and chose the first.

"Wait, Casey! CASEY!" she shouted and sprinted after the fleeing girl. Thankfully the cheerleader was never one for speed. "Hey!" She grabbed her arm and spun her around to face her just before she escaped into the school.

"What do you want?" she sniffled and the track runner fought the urge to just walk away at the pitiful way Casey was acting.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things, it's just...You know how you asked where i had been last week?" Casey nodded and wiped at her tears, again disgusting the other girl. "I was at my dad's funeral. He was...a soldier in a government agency. He was killed by the man who tried to invade Earth in Manhattan about a month or so ago. That's why i kinda...snapped at you for acting so...disconnected about Heimlich." Stella looked down and waited for a reaction.

"Oh my god...I'm so sorry, if i had - i - i mean, if...I'm sorry," she finished and she ran off, completely and thoroughly embarrassed. Feeling only slightly better about what she had said, the girl walked over to the police line and waved her hand to get their attention.

"Miss, you aren't allowed to be back here, you'll have to go on to class," the officer closest to her said but she didn't move.

"I was told that you needed to speak to a Stella Coulson about her last moments with Heimlich?" A look of understanding dawned on the man's face and he lifted up the tape for her, beckoning her in.

"Neck snapped. Don't supposed you know by who?" he asked, showing her the body. "This is the man you were talking to, yes?"

"Yeah...he was nice," she said weakly, looking down into the frozen features of the young man's face. The surprise and fear at whatever he had seen - and she had a good idea what that had been - was still evident in his eyes.

"Yeah. That's him. And, I'm sorry, I don't know. He was so kind, i don't see why someone would do him in like this." The officer sighed and covered the body back up with the black plastic.

"Welcome to the club," he responded and sighed, shivering with the cold.

"You're a new transfer from New York to this location aren't you?" she asked and officer looked over her, surprised.

"Yeah, just transferred. Too much stress there with that extraterrestrial attack. How'd you know?" Stella smiled and shrugged.

"You're the only one shivering and have a full on accent," she smiled and turned to leave. "I can go now, right?"

"Yeah, yeah..." the officer said distractedly and she laughed inside when she saw him looking around at everyone else, noting that they seemed comfortable with their surroundings and the cold. Today would be, she hoped, a day for her to just wind down and relax. And think about her choice that was approaching fast. And as she walked into the halls of her school and headed to her locker, she couldn't help but feel how dull this life now seemed. Her mom was right.

She had enjoyed the thrill of the chase. And now she wanted more.

~'*'~

Fury looked around himself unobtrusively as he hurried through the foyer of the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, long black trench coat billowing out behind him as he continued his fast paced walk down the hallway. He ghosted down several flights of stairs, until he was well below surveillance cameras' eyes and unlikely to run into anyone who was going to start asking the wrong questions. that would be just what he needed, he reflected as he stared into the red light for the facial scan and put his hand in another scanner.

_LEVEL 9 SECURITY _flashed on the screen and beeped. The door swooshed open quickly, allowing him to enter, and closing just as rapidly behind him.

"Doctor Jones, talk to me," he said as he walked into the pristine white hospital wing. A young female doctor looked up from a computer screen and smiled wanly before rising to greet him.

"Director," she said simply. She held the report out to him and he just stared at it. "Sir, you asked for a report."

"I'll look at it later. I'm here for a _verbal_ report on his status." Jones sighed and set the screen down. "I take it that it isn't good."

"Sir, we've still got him hooked up to an intravenous drip for liquids and nutrition, but i'm afraid that his condition is unchanged." Fury nodded, seemingly older, more worn down.

"Are you any closer to ascertaining _what_ is wrong with him?" Jones shook her head.

"No sir." Fury walked past her to stand at the glass wall before a room. "It's almost as if he's in a sort of coma. But it's not like any we've seen before. And what's worse sir, is that he himself, or whatever part of him is left in that shell, is starting to fade."

"You think it has anything to do with the Tesseract?"

"We don't know sir. It could be anything and therefore nothing. We simply have no idea." Fury didn't respond and stood there, arms folded across his chest, staring at the comatose form on the bed and the few nurses in there checking vitals or recording levels. "If you want to sir, we've determined it's safe for non-medical personnel to be in there." Fury looked down at the woman and nodded, walking over to the door and opening it slowly, as though afraid to disturb the occupant. Seeing his approach, the three nurses gave curt nods and vacated the room, leaving the director alone with the patient.

The Director looked almost uncomfortable, at a loss as to what to do. Finally, he decided on a course of action and swung a chair over beside the crisp white bed, sitting heavily upon it. A long silence stretched out, this one less uncomfortable than the last. Fury cleared his throat and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and placing his head in his hands. He didn't know what to say. Had no idea. He was a soldier, not a nurse, and sure as hell not prepared to be doing this. Finally, he looked up and nodded to the patient staring blankly up at the ceiling, eyes fogged over by a strange gray blue. Completely unresponsive, arms laying stiffly at his sides, barely breathing, barely moving. Dead to the world, but alive somewhere. Somewhere they couldn't free him.

And it pained the S.H.I.E.L.D. leader to see _this_ patient like this. Pained Fury to see him trapped in his own mind, or trapped somewhere else entirely, unable to hear, see, feel, or be aware of his surroundings. Unable to understand or be told that someone was by him, that he was not alone.

"I'm sorry." Despite himself, Fury had to inhale sharply through his nose - not sniff, mind you, that sounded weak - to keep his emotions in check and blinked his one good eye a few times. It was all he said in the forty-five minutes he sat there, but Nick felt it best summed up everything that could be said in that moment. _I'm sorry_. _  
_

_I'm so sorry._

And the patient stared on.


	4. Chapter 4

Stella sat at her desk, tapping her pencil in an incessant beat on the fake wood. The clock seemed to be frozen, time moving only when it seemed fit, and it was starting to annoy her beyond belief. She wanted to be out of this class, away from the droning voices of her teachers, the zombies locked in their phones in the hallways, the machines trapped behind computer screens. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to be out in the world, following her father's footsteps. The thrill of the chase, the adrenaline running through her, more and more it appealed to her. The feeling of -

"COULSON!" her math teacher snapped and slammed his pointer down on the desk between her hands, making her jump and drawing laughter from the rest of the class. "Mind _here_ if that's not too much trouble."

"Sorry Mr. Ronan," she whispered, taking a deep breath and looking down at her notebook. "What problem were we on?'

"Answer question thirty one, Stella," he said, annoyed, pointing to it with his long wooden pole, leaving a black smudge on the white paper. it annoyed her and when he turned around to walk back to his desk, she unobtrusively tried to wipe it away with a finger, stopping as he turned back to face her expectantly.

_Thirty one? But they had just been doing problem five!_

"That's uh, the answer's..." she trailed off, flipping through her book. Damn it, that had been a problem she had skipped. When she finally found the page, face burning at the sniggers from the rest of her classmates, she hit a mind block. She couldn't remember how to do this problem! "I - I don't know, sir." She looked up and her teacher sighed.

"Pay attention some more, Coulson. It won't kill you." He turned to the board and began doing the complicated Calculus problem out on the board, explaining in an annoying, condescending tone how to solve it. the rest of the class had quieted down and were taking notes, but being at the front of the class room meant she could feel every gaze boring into the back of her head and still hear the silent laughter directed at her. Finally, she snapped her head around and glared at them, the sensations reaching a point where she couldn't focus. Eyes slid away from hers and complete "silence" fell. They weren't thinking at her any more. But she saw that in the back of the room, one person didn't look away, but rather looked at her with a sense of pity, understanding.

Casey.

Stel turned back to face the front to see a call slip right in her face, Ronan glaring down his pointed nose at her.

"Councillor. Now." _Shit._ As she was leaving the room, she saw that Casey was still watching her sympathetically, warily, and for some reason, her attitude towards the cheerleader was starting to change.

The heavy oak door with the black name tag sat at eye level before her and the senior looked down at the crumpled bit of paper in her hand. She wanted to go in, but didn't. She wasn't sure that she even wanted to see her coach's face right now. But finally steeling herself, she opened the door and entered, Rodriguez looking up at her. Her office was simple, her top runners' photos decorating the walls around the desk, almost drowning her in trophies and regional and state awards. Even one national. And she couldn't help but feel slightly awkward as she saw her own face smiling at her from several of the pictures.

"Stella. Come on in, sit down," her said, jerking her back to the present, gesturing to a rather comfy looking chair across from her. Stella closed the door and stood awkwardly by it for a moment before walking to the offered furniture. The hesitation did not go unnoticed.

"Stella, how are you?" the girl shrugged and her councillor gave her a look. "That's a dead give away that something's wrong. What is it?"

"It's - " she stopped. She could say nothing. She could lie again. Or she could tell her something that was closer to the truth. Lying was easier. Natural.

_What's wrong, sweetie?_ She tensed up in the chair almost imperceptibly and her eyes took on a far away look.

_Nothing daddy, her five year old voice said._

_Come on, her dad said, picking her up and holding her close to him. What's wrong? Mommy said you've been crying at night. Monsters coming again?_

_No. It's not the monsters. _

_what is it? Her eyes began smarting, and then she started crying. Shh...it's okay, sweetheart, what's wrong...what's wrong? her dad asked her, walking around her room, gently rocking her._

_I miss you daddy, she sobbed. I don't want you to leave again! _

_I have to go, baby squirrel. I'll be back though. I'm always back._

_But i want you to stay here! Why do you have to go? You get hurt when you leave, i don't want you to get hurt!_

_Stella, I will do my best, for you, to not get hurt anymore. I'll come and see you soon okay? But i have to go. He set her down in her bed and pulled the covers up over her and sat by her, singing softly and stroking her hair. Her tears slowly died away in the soft caress of her father's voice._

_...Never stop hoping, need to know where you are, but one things for sure, you're always in my heart. I'll find you somewhere. I'll keep on trying until my dying day. I just need to know whatever has happened, the truth will free my soul. Lost in the darkness, try to find your way home. I want to embrace you and never let you go...She drifted off to sleep, the weight of her dad's hand comfortingly heavy on her head._

Baby squirrel. She had forgotten her dad had called her that...when she tried to jump from one tree to another, fallen out and broken her wrist...

"Stella?" Rodriguez asked, reaching out and touching the girl's hand. It had been only for a split second, but she knew that look. that dazed, distanced look that she had seen unfortunately many times before. "Who was it?"

"It..it was my dad," she said, attempting to be off handed about it. "He - he was killed in the extraterrestrial attack. By their leader." She laughed and wiped once at her eyes. "I'm sorry. I get random crying attacks like this. I'm fine."

"Stella, it's important to talk about things like this. keeping it all bottled up inside of yourself isn't good."

"I know. I just have no one to share it with. Mom's barely keeping it together. I can't go home and not hear something sad coming from her cello. She used to play jigs and lively folk songs for dad, but, you know that's how life works when you loose someone. Things change. Homes grow cold, conversations dull."

"Your father, he didn't have anything to do with a S.H.I.E.L.D. did he?" Stella looked up at her, surprise betraying her. "They were asking to access your academic files today." When nothing came out of her open mouth, Stella braced herself for the interrogation. Instead of pressing questions however, Rodriguez smiled and reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out an ID card and sliding it over the desk to the student.

**Name **Rodriguez Veronica

**D.O.B.** 1/25/79

**S.H.I.E.L.D.**

"What?" was all the startled girl could manage, looking up at her track and field coach.

"Well, i guess I would be lying if i showed you that. It's my old card. I had to retire from the service after i lost my leg to some insurgents in the middle east. Can't even tell its fake, can you? Can run on it, do flips, do whatever a normal leg can do. Except take on the obstacle courses required to retain your rank. It couldn't take the beatings that were required for S.H.I.E.L.D., so they had to let me go. Your dad though, i owed big time for hauling my ass out of there when i was missing an appendage. So, he wanted me to stay here nearby you and his wife. In case something happened to him. He said...that you would take it hard. And to not let you destroy yourself over it."

"You've been watching over me when no one else at S.H.I.E.L.D. knew we existed?" Veronica shrugged.

"You could say that. Every time your dad went on a mission that had more danger to it than the others, I was appointed as your guardian. No one knew, nothing legal. Just a favor. I'm just saying that your dad cared for you a lot. He loved you. And he wanted you to take care of your own life." Stella looked down at the desk before her, at the offending card. "So. Did S.H.I.E.L.D. ask you to join?"

"I...sort of. They gave me an acceptance letter, but I don't know if i'm going to actually join." Veronica nodded thoughtfully and looked at the girl in front of her.

"You know how your dad joined right?" The student shook her head and the ex agent sighed. "Well, i guess that's a story that Fury will tell you. Or maybe Romanoff or Barton. How is school going?" Stella almost laughed at the sudden change of topic.

"Ronan's a jerk." Veronica threw her head back and laughed full heartedly, a smile breaking out on the face of the girl before the adult, despite her best efforts. "Stop. i shouldn't be laughing right now."

"Stella, you've mourned your father for a long time now. It's time that you stood up for yourself again. Start running the way you used to. And i don't mean just track and field running. I mean operating the way you used to. Do well in your classes. It'll all help, i promise. My parents both died when i was young and my older brother was taken into S.H.I.E.L.D. He took care of me and he was gunned down by a terrorist faction in Iran. I fell into this abyss that you're heading to, and i lost it. It took a long time for me to get on my feet again, and when i did, it was no surprise that i turned to S.H.I.E.L.D. You know what they told me when i showed up?"

"What?"

"Took you long enough. You get what I'm trying to say?" Stella nodded and stood up.

"Can I?"

"If you feel ready, you can go," she responded carefully and Stella nodded.

"I am." She opened the door and was halfway out when Rodriguez called her again.

"Are you going to take the job?" She stopped, uncertain. Her heart said yes, her mind said no. She was torn, and they both knew it. "Just give it some thought. It's either the best or the worst thing that happened to you. No way to tell, no way to change whichever it is."

"Would you take it back?" she asked, looking slightly over her shoulder. Without hesitation, the woman decisively shook her head.

"Not in a million years. Never."

She left and closed the door.

Heart light, yet heavy. The hallway stretched out in front of her and she took a deep breath, walking back to her class, mind racing a million miles an hour.

It was like cutting your hair, doing anything of consequence or major import for the first time. You don't know if you should do it, but you won't find out until you go ahead and just do it. And find out if it works or not. if it was the right choice. It was like life.

Any life, no matter how long and complex it may be, is made up of a single moment - the moment in which a person finds out, once and for all, who she is.

That moment had arrived.

And the rest of the day was a blur.

~'*'~

She walked into her bedroom and collapsed on the bed, exhausted. She had gone through everything in her daughter's room, reorganized everything, cleaned, and hadn't come across any letter. Maybe she had just been over reacting. But then again, she never over reacted. That was why Phil had been drawn to her when they first met. Who _didn't_ scream and babble incoherently when some strange, crazy-ass druggie ran out into the street grabbed you, tried running away, and your future husband put a bullet in the guy's head for doing it? Apparently her. No, she wasn't one for over reacting. This was a legitimate worry. But she'd vacuumed, checked the trash cans, the sheets, the desk, closet, dressers, everything. But there was no sign of the paper. then she realized her daughter was smart enough that she may have brought it to school. then again, she probably wouldn't have in case she lost it and some teacher found it.

If Phil were going to hide something...where would he put it? Well, he would have done something stupid, like put it in his copy of _Common Sense_. But what would her daughter do? With a sudden thought, she got up and walked back into her daughter's pristine room and knelt by the bedside, noting a small tuft of white paper on the carpeted floors. She picked it up and the texture she felt she knew by heart. Burned into her memory from that moment on the steps of her house. Reaching farther under the bed, she patted the ground, disappointed when nothing came up into her hands. But as she was pulling her hand out from the shadows, her bracelet caught on something, holding her hand fast. Reaching her other hand under and feeling around, she felt her fingers curl around a heavy white paper.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled back, the envelope coming free. She hurriedly reopened the seal and felt her heart sink. She closed her eyes and sorrow threatened to overwhelm her, burying her in the realization that she was losing everything that she loved to this organization. She didn't care how special they were, or how special you had to be to be a part of them. they killed her husband. They wouldn't kill her daughter. But as she pulled the rest of the paper out, another leaf drifted to the floor, with a written note on it, not uniform. Unusual for an order that prided itself on its neat presentation. She picked it up and held it in her hands, hope starting to blossom in her again.

_Ms. Coulson,_

_This is not a standard portion of the letter. I am adding this to notify you that you are _not_ my first choice with this appointment. I found what you did in the car to be something that is at everyone's capability, something that naturally would come to anyone who was put in your position. However, Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton seem to be of other school's of thought, saying that it was your cool under pressure that revealed your potential, and that was the art behind your success in there. If you are to take this position offered to you, it is by their recommendation, not my own. I expect high results from you if you join, because my eye will be on you more than anyone else._

_**Director Nicholas Fury**_

"Don't let her go with them," she whispered to herself. "Don't let them take my little girl from me too." She stood up and walked over to the stairs and walked down, holding onto the railing to steady herself. The letter was dropped on the table and she habitually made her way to her cello, pulling it up to herself and playing a heart-wrenching piece. It didn't matter now. She would talk to Stella when she got home. Stop all of this from happening. But as she sat there, allowing her cello to play the soft tones of "Madame de Pompadour" from Doctor Who, she began to realize that her control over the situation was not her own power. It was not her choice as to what her daughter did with her life.

It was time...to let go.

And the song continued with a bowed head; empty, yet resolute heart; devoted, loving player running her bow across the strings.

~'*'~

When Stella pulled up to her house, everything seemed normal. Smoke curled in a faint wisps, blending, yet contrasting, with the sky behind it. The sky was a pale blue, clouds threatening to come back in, and coat the world in its winter snow. And as she walked up to the door, bags slung over her back, she could already smell the tell-tale cinnamon and other spices her mother used in baking filling the air around the door. And unfortunately, the sad cello droned in the background. All the signs of a happy homestead, marred by the sound of mourning.

"Mom, I'm home!" she called as she opened the door, climbing the steps and walking into her room. She froze. Clean. Her room...was _clean_. She dropped her back on her bed and hurried to the side of her bed, kneeling down and feeling for the paper. Her fingers grasped empty air and rough wood. Closing her eyes in a defeated sensation, she stood up and walked to her door, trying to quickly figure out what she was going to say.

"Mom?"

"Yes?" she called, stopping her cello song.

"There's something i need to talk to you about." The woman looked up from her cello with sad eyes.

"I know."

Stella soon found herself seated out on their covered patio, holding a cup of hot chocolate in her hand, looking through the steam at her mom. She seemed worn down, but determined. And Stella realized that she would have to get it out.

"Mom, I know you found the letter from S.H.I.E.L.D. I'm sorry, i should have just told you what was going on. From the beginning." her mom didn't say anything, but then she looked up and took a deep breath.

"Stella. You are a grown woman. You have every right to be choosing your own path in life at this point. I should be the one apologizing for holding you back."

"Mom, it's different right now. This is S.H.I.E.L.D. that we're talking about. Dad lost his life working for them, and i know you don't want to have to deal with any more problems. If it will be that much of a problem for you, i won't go. I know what dad meant to you."

"Stella, your father was proud of what he did. And i know that both of us were proud of him too. And you may not know this, but he always knew you would follow him. But...he was scared for your safety. he never wanted you actually join. But he had a feeling that you would because it was in your blood. Climbing trees and falling out to just climb the same one even higher next time. What I'm trying to say it...if you really want to do this, you can go ahead." The daughter stared at her mother in shock. "It takes someone of special talent to get on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar, and you were able to. I'm proud of you."

"Mom, I...I don't know what to say, I..."

"You can promise me one thing. That _you _will come back. And you will make your father _proud_." Lynne reached out and held her daughter's hand, skin warm from the coffee mug. "Can you promise me that?"

"Mom...I can't promise anything. because if i did, there would be no way for me to make sure that i could follow through with it. But i can tell you that i would try my best to be careful. That's all i can promise you." Lynne nodded and sighed, pulling the envelope out of her apron pocket.

"So. What are you going to tell her when she comes back?" Both women stared long at the paper, and the older knew what was going on in the younger's head. "Stel. Don't think about me any more with this. this is between you and what you want to do with the rest of your life. I'll be an old lady by the time you're done training anyways, and it's not like they're going to throw you into the deep end right off the bat. Your father was just taking on a drug circle when we met. One of his first assignments." She laughed lightly, looking into the depths of her coffee while her daughter took a sip of her hot chocolate. "He was so scared it wasn't funny. In fact, i was the one comforting him initially he was freaking out about having shot a man dead."

"_Dad_," Stella said, incredulous. "_Dad_ was scared."

"Oh yeah. I'll never forget that day. Panicked and ran out, asking if i was okay and babbling something about having just killed a man, but he wasn't a very nice man. So your father, even then. When you get your first assignment, don't be surprised if you meet your husband." Her eyes twinkled and the younger rolled her eyes.

"Mom, don't be like that," she laughed. "I don't think that my first mission is going to be like that. Not going to be as tragically romantic as your first exposure to S.H.I.E.L.D. But if something like that does happen, then I'll be sure to call you and let you know."

"So, you've made your decision?" They looked each other again Stella realized what her mom had just done. She smiled at her, and this time it was one of consent and affirmation.

"I get it."

~'*'~

Romanoff stepped out of the shadows and looked around quickly. No one seemed to be away, but the night was clear and that increased the probability of people noticing anything out of the ordinary. Ghosting across the yard to the snow covered hedges, she climbed up the tree, leaping easily to the sill and perching there as she deftly and easily opened the window, stepping into the room, careful to make as little noise as possible as she stepped onto the desk right below the glass and landed on the ground. She looked around and noted that the lights were all off and everything was clean, tidied up. Empty, almost, save for the two figures sitting on the bed, backs to her.

"Stella Coulson," she said lowly, and the taller of the two turned around to face her. "What's your choice?" Stella looked around at her mother beside her and tried to ignore the sad look in those eyes.

"I'll go," she responded, still looking at her mom. To her surprise, Lynne wrapped her arms around her and held her close to her, eyes closed in sad comfort.

"Stay safe, sweetheart. Stay strong."

"Mom, I'll be fine," she responded, hugging her mother tightly and taking a deep breath, memorizing the smell of her mom's shampoo and the laundry detergent she used. After the mother planted a kiss on her daughter's cheek and the girl returned the gesture, Stella stood up and walked over to face the shorter assassin before her and saw no sign of any emotion in her eyes, nothing to give her any hint as to what to do next.

"Allright then." Two simple words that seemed to be foreboding and encouraging at the same time.

_It's either the best or the worst thing that happened to you. No way to tell, no way to change whichever it is._

She hoped to herself, as she said goodbye to her mother one more time before she left the room and the house behind Romanoff, that it was the first.


	5. Chapter 5

Romanoff didn't say anything as she walked down the porch to the sidewalk, gait still that slinking, effortless prowl as though she were hiding in the shadows, on a mission. The girl wanted to follow, but her feet refused to move, leaving her awkwardly standing on the porch, looking down. This was it. The one step that would decide what she would do for the rest of her life. Noting that her steps were the only ones making noise in the snow, Romanoff stopped in the snow and turned around to look at her expectantly.

"Well?" Stella looked up almost at a loss for words. There was something that she needed to say, something that she had to get out. What was stopping her. Why she couldn't dive full in and make a no turning back commitment to S.H.I.E.L.D. After taking another deep breath, she looked up and spoke her heart and mind.

"Almost a month ago, your Director, Nick Fury, walked up this porch and gave my mom one of your pristine, perfectly pressed white envelopes. it shattered her, shattered me. Threw our whole world for a spin." Romanoff still looked at her with a stoic expression. "Can you promise me that you'll never _ever_ have to send her that letter again?" It wasn't a half-hearted request. It was border line on an order, a pledge that was to be held until death. "Can you promise me that mom will _never_ have to go through that again." A statement, clearly, though it was phrased as a question. Natasha's eyes shifted down for a split second and she walked up to the girl, startling the student as she realized she was probably a good head taller than the rather short assassin.

"I can't promise anything. No one can promise anything," she said lowly, eyes locking on Stella's. "You join S.H.I.E.L.D. you do so knowing very well that any breath could be your last. Any sight could be the last thing you see on this green Earth. You join knowing any moment you could be killed. And no one can protect you from that." Stella looked down at her, more uncertain now than ever. "You join without fear."

"I'm not scared. Not for myself." This time, Stella knew she was on steady ground. She had given this argument before, even to herself in a near bipolar conversation at a mirror. "I'm scared for those I love. For mom. And for dad...at a time. I could care less about my _own_ life, but I don't want to hurt my mother. I don't want that scene - " she pointed behind her to the door " - to happen again for her. I'm just asking you to help me help her. If I die, make something up. Say that I'm on a classified trip for an undetermined amount of time. I just..." She looked up and met Romanoff's eyes and was surprised to see a flicker of pity and sympathy in them. It was gone as soon as she saw it but she knew it was there none the less. "You get what I mean." Romanoff nodded and cleared her throat looking down and back up, any trace of "weakness," also known as emotion, gone.

"I can't promise to keep you alive. But for as long as i can, i will make sure that you are trained as hard as you can be, to be so good that nothing will ever touch you. _Can_ ever touch you. You'll learn to defend yourself and _that _will give you the guarantee that you want."

"Who'll train me?" Romanoff's mouth twitched in something close to a smirk.

"We'll have to see how much you already know. Then we can place you with your mentor. God help you if it's me." Stella began laughing slightly, only to stop and feel a sense of foreboding when she saw that the woman before her was dead serious.

"I, um, I'll keep that in mind," she recovered and Romanoff nodded, looking over her shoulder and making a small sign with her hand that was facing the street. From the shadows in a pitch black strip of the road, the tell-tale black car pulled out to come to a stop in the driveway, engine gently rumbling in the silent night.

"You ready?" Romanoff asked softly and Stella nodded, taking one last look over her shoulder at her house and walking down the steps beside Romanoff to climb into the backseat of the car. Barton was driving.

"So, _this _is where Phil would hide out when he went on breaks..." he muttered and immediately shut up under Nat's scathing glare. "Sorry, Nat."

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," she hissed, too low for the girl to hear. "Show some sensitivity will you?" Barton put his hand behind the head rest of Natasha's seat and turned around in that same direction to watch the road as he pulled out.

"How you doing?" he asked and Stella nearly started at being addressed by him. Then, as she looked at his face and took in his countenance, she realized that this agent wasn't as cold and distant as the Russian spy. She nodded and gave a small smile.

"I'm...good. Considering the situation," she felt she was obliged to add. Barton nodded in acceptance of that answer and turned back around, skillfully turning the vehicle around and going off into the darkened road. Something pulled at the back of her mind, a nagging sensation and she turned around in time to see a new person walk up to the door with a distinct gait that she recognized from school. Her mother was waving to her from her own bedroom window and vanished to answer the doorbell. Stella sighed in relief as she realized that her coach was revealing herself to her mother. As strong as Lynne could be, sometimes a woman friend could be a big comfort.

"Where are we going?" she asked and Barton looked between the road and his friend to see if she would take the lead. When she didn't he answered their passenger's question.

"We're taking you to the nearest S.H.I.E.L.D. head quarters."

"Which would be where?" the girl asked, not satisfied with the level of detail that the archer was giving her. Romanoff, unseen by Stella, smirked at the questioning. Barton however seemed unfazed.

"San Francisco. It will take a couple of hours, since we're not going over on a plane. It's been picking up too much attention. But the time's not that bad, considering where we've travelled to in the past." Phil's daughter nodded and looked out the window at the rapidly passing landscape. "What sort of athletic training do you have?" She looked back at Barton's reflection in the rear view mirror and answered the question thoughtfully.

"I was one of the fastest sprinters in the region. I am the fastest state cross-country runner. Other than that, not much. Most of it is instinctive."

"What do you mean was?" Romanoff asked, surprising both with her sudden partaking in the conversation.

"I, um. Well, let's just say that certain events as of late have...thrown me off."

"Your father?" Barton glared at Romanoff in a _hypocrite..._sort of way.

"Yeah," Stella whispered, tracing an intricate design on the fogged car window. "Every night i see it. The security feed." The two agents looked intently at the road before them, awkwardly avoiding the topic that they had brought up themselves.

"Instinctive, huh?" Stella looked at Barton, baffled. "The rest of what you do, it's instinctive?" She nodded. "Like, you just get how people are going to move?"

"I guess. Like i can see what their most logical point of attack is, their next step. Nothing that great." Barton raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything further. She gripped her hand tightly on her jeans, looking out at the landscape. She was nervous. She would never admit it, but she was nervous.

~'*'~

Romanoff looked in the rear view mirror five hours later to see that the girl was dozing off in the back seat and her mouth twitched in something suspiciously close to a smile as she fell asleep completely, breathing rate and slight movement of the eyes telling her that the girl really and truly was asleep.

"Something funny?" Clint asked her softly and the woman shook her head.

"No, she...she just looks so much like Coulson."

"After everything the three of us went through and you still feel the need to call him Coulson. How many times did he ask you to call him Phil?"

"Too many times," Romanoff answered coolly. "What do you think about what she was saying? About the instinct?"

"Well, Phil was pretty instinctive too. Nothing really took him by surprise...Always had a level head in a crisis...even when he was dying." Romanoff nodded and was silent for a bit. "But you're right, she does look like her dad. Like, a lot." Clint gave a small laugh. "Wonder if she'll be like him. That would go over great at base."

"We just need to get her there and see who her mentors are. Sitwell would be a good one." Clint scoffed before answering.

"You kidding? Sitwell is a technological person. _Coulson_ taught him; do you really think that she could be taught by a man who just barely finished his training under her dad?" Romanoff didn't answer. "What do you think Stark would do if we had her show up and taser him?" Romanoff gave him a look. "What? Phil said he was going to!" They sat in companionable silence and then Barton added thoughtfully, "Or hit him in the head with a bag of flour. Did you ever see that security feed?" Romanoff laughed - _actually laughed -_ at the memory.

"I most certainly did. in fact, I used it to teach the new recruits how to use their surroundings to go on the offensive in a desperate situation like that. Made them scared shitless of Coulson - he actually talked to me about why they were running the other way when they saw him walking down the halls you know -but still. It was worth it," she commented. "He always was good at that sort of stuff. Got me out of trouble a few times, too."

And in the backseat, Stella listened, realizing that she was in the car with probably two of her father's closest friends. And that made her sad. They seemed to know more about her father, her true father's side, than she did. She knew the loving man, the caring father, but that was it. She didn't know _this_ version that they spoke so fondly of. Of the man who could take people out with bags of flour apparently. And saved the _Black Widow _for crying out loud! She made the mistake of sighing slightly in sadness at the thought that she didn't really know her father. She sat up and feigned a bleary appearance of having just woken up.

"How far away are we?"

"About another two hours or so," Barton said kindly, looking over at her. "You might want to sleep for another hour or so. We'll wake you up when we're an hour away." She nodded and laid her head back on the side of the car, looking out at the flying landscape. Soon, the monotony caught up with her racing mind, catching it and slowing it way down and she fell into a restless sleep.

_Shall we find out__?_

_No. Not again..._

_She was frozen beside her father as she saw Loki vanish and appear beside her, ramming the scepter through the agent's chest. He fell to the ground and Loki walked by her, oblivious to the fact that she existed. As though she were just a shadow eavesdropping. But just like he had every night this dream came, her dad's eyes pinned her down and he tried to say something to her, reaching a hand out for help. She heard nothing though and could only watch in horror as her father died right in front of her, with no way to stop it with no way to reverse it, rewind time. Loki's laugh rang through her head -_

"Stella? Stella?...Stella!" The girl started awake and sat upright so fast she made herself dizzy and the seatbelt snapped tight across her with the speed and force. Romanoff was twisted around in her seat, hand tightly clamped on her shoulder. She realized they had stopped moving and looked around her to realize that they had pulled over on the highway and the sun was already rising above the mountaintops.

"Wha- what?" she asked, completely disoriented. Romanoff withdrew and sat back in her seat, dead pan again. Barton however favored her with a sympathetic smile. "What happened?"

"I guess you were having another nightmare?" She closed her eyes and swore silently at herself slamming her head against the head rest.

"Sorry," she muttered, rubbing her eyes. "How loud was I?" she added, peaking between her fingers.

"Well, seeing as we had to pull over to wake you up..." Barton said uncomfortably and she waved the question away.

"Never mind. Sorry I asked." A long awkward silence stretched out between them and it was thankfully broken by Romanoff.

"You woke up in time though. We're half and hour away from base. Welcome to California." Stella looked out her window and blinked a few times.

"Is it always this foggy?" she asked looking around. Barton laughed.

"Welcome to Daly City. I've only seen a few days that weren't overcast," he admitted and Stella shrugged.

"Not much different from Oregon then," she muttered and Romanoff gave that strange, brief smirk that vanished as soon as it appeared. "What'll I do once I get there?"

"Well, first you'll meet Fury. Well, again, I guess since you've already met him," Barton explained and she tightened her hands imperceptibly on her jeans. Fury. Not the man she was looking forward to seeing: she still hadn't forgotten _that_ day. "And as far as possible," the agent added, noting the subtly tightened hands, "try not to hit him."

"Can't promise anything," she muttered, slowly waking up and forcing down the residual adrenaline from her dream, which was still running rampant throughout her system. Or maybe that was adrenaline from her current situation. Romanoff unobtrusively kept an eye on the young woman via the side view mirror, taking note of things she could make use of later.

Dark circles under the eyes signified loss of sleep, or a lack of steady sleep. Her feet were always balanced on her toes, as though she were ready to take off at a moment's notice. But both of those, along with the attentive way she looked at everything around her meant that she had another problem, one that had nothing to do with her track and field history or her lack of sleep. The whole image, all of the attributes put together, painted the picture of a girl poised for fight, not flight. Always expecting to see the enemy lurking around the corner, and wanting to exact her revenge for what happened. And the assassin knew it had nothing to do with being taken those few days ago. No this had to do with something older, something more painful. The enemy was always fresh in the girl's mind and the adult bet that it was armed with a gold scepter. They drove in silence and slowly Stella seemed to relax, sitting back in her seat in an easier manner. However, those eyes still looked around, taking in everything and while her feet were flat on the ground, it was plain to see that her leg muscles would flex every now and again as though still remaining prepared for flight.

Romanoff looked down from the rear view mirror and told herself that the girl may just be a mite twitchy. It wouldn't be a surprise, seeing as Coulson was the same when he started off. But she was fairly certain that Stella was bothered by something else. A death. A security feed. She could only imagine how hard it must be to see that every night -

"Am I doing the right thing?" Stella asked suddenly, and both agents looked back at her via the rear view mirror.

"We can't tell you if it is or isn't. that's something for you to determine on your own," Romanoff said softly and looked back in front of her. "_Clint, eyes on the ROAD!" _she shouted suddenly and grabbed the wheel throwing it to the side so they swerved away from the pedestrian who literally jumped a foot in the air and practically fell over himself on the ground as the car missed him by an inch. "Moron..." the Russian muttered, running a hand through her hair.

Neither of the other two people in the car knew who she was talking about: Barton or the pedestrian. Stella bet it was Barton. Barton of course bet it was the pedestrian. But the last fifteen minutes of the drive were relatively uneventful and Stella found that nagging voice returned.

_Did you really know your dad?_

_Of course i knew him._

_Listen to yourself. _You_ don't even believe in what you're saying. _

I knew my father!_  
_

_Yes, your father. But did you know Philip J Coulson?_

She didn't want to answer, but the question kept repeating in her head.

_No. I didn't _know_ Philip J Coulson. All i knew was that he was a top secret agent for S.H.I.E.L.D. I knew about the Avengers Initiative. I knew about his missions. I didn't know about him as an agent though. I knew his work, not him. I knew my father though. He's what mattered._

_Is he? Your father didn't pay the ultimate sacrifice. Agent Coulson did._

The subtle hitting of her clenched hand on her head, accompanied by her mumbling words soundlessly, and the screwed shut eyes did not go unnoticed, and Romanoff again filed away her observations for future reference.

~'*'~

Fury looked up as Hill walked over to him. She'd been decidedly quiet since the Battle for Manhattan, as he called it. Ever since the day the helicarrier was attacked, now that he thought about it. He had a fair guess why, though, and he was loath to bring it up: he may act like he's emotionless and just likes to manipulate others' emotions, but he did have them, and they were a damn nuisance to him.

"Hill?" he asked her, voice gentler with her than it had been before. She hesitated and looked down.

"Sir, permission to ask a question freely?"

"Permission granted," he responded, looking back down to his paper work.

"Sir, about where you go...when you don't tell anyone...people are beginning to talk. To speculate." Fury put down his pen and looked up at her. "They say that you're hiding something from everyone."

"Do you say that i'm hiding something from everyone?" he asked her simply. She hesitated and looked down at the paper between his hands.

"I do, sir. You vanish for hours on end sometimes, tell no one of your whereabouts, and dodge every surveillance camera. Respectfully, sir, i agree." Fury nodded.

"It is a fair argument," he said, and picked his pen back up. "Is that all, Agent?" She looked at him, baffled.

"Sir, what are you hiding?" Fury stopped writing again and raised his eyes wearily.

"Hill...I'll tell everyone what I'm doing when the time comes. The time has not yet come. It isn't life threatening, and not Council ordered. Nothing like phase 2 or the Tesseract, nothing that will cause global disarray. I'll tell the base when they need to know. When I'm ready for them to know." Hill nodded and walked away, mind eased slightly. Fury waited until she was out of his office and finished the last few lines of his report before he dropped the pen in defeat and cradled his head in his hands. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. He pressed a button on the underside of his desk.

"Jones here."

"Status?" he asked, wearily hoping for good news, knowing he would be disappointed.

"I'm sorry sir. I'll notify you if there's a change - " he ended the transmission and rested his head on his arms, folded over the desk. At that moment, a knock came at his door and he sat bolt upright again, Hill sticking her head in.

"Sir, Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff are coming in with Recruit Stella C-oulson," there was a near imperceptible hesitation as the woman started the girl's last name. She walked into the room and stood by Fury's chair, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. "Sir, are you alright?" The director nodded wearily. "That girl...she isn't the one related to Phil, is she?"

"His daughter," he affirmed. "I'm not trying to replace him, Hill. Barton and Romanoff claim she has potential. I defer to their judgment." He stood up and Hill's hand immediately went to her side as she walked out behind him, stalking to wait before the door that they would enter through when they reached the heart of the base. And when that girl entered, the first test would begin.

~'*'~

Barton pulled up in front of the building and Romanoff got out, gesturing briefly for Stella to follow suit. The girl climbed out of the car with the grace of an athlete and followed the assassin closely. She didn't want to get lost in the massive grey building that loomed before her. Honestly, it looked like a warehouse. This couldn't seriously be where -

At that moment, she saw an elbow come flying towards her face and she reacted before her mind had even completed the thought process for what to do. She bent back, the elbow of Romanoff passing just in front of her only to be followed up by a lightning fast and hard punch to the stomach that left her winded on the ground.

"What the hell?" the teenager wheezed, looking up at the woman. Romanoff held a hand out to the girl and Stella took it. "What was that about?!" she gasped, rubbing her sore stomach. She was almost 100% sure there would be a bruise in the shape of a fist on there tomorrow. Romanoff gave her that cold, indifferent stare.

"Rule number one: never walk so close to your oppponent. Too easy for you to get taken by surprise. It limits your mobility and your reflex time, though i was very surprised you managed to dodge the elbow strike." Stella nodded, still regaining her breath.

"Yeah, well, I'm glad i did," she finally managed, and Romanoff gave that strange half second smirk the girl had seen before.

"Come on, Fury will want to see you immediately." This time, Stella made sure she was always on her guard and a safe distance back from the small assassin who packed one hell of a punch for such a compact frame. Barton suddenly appeared beside her and he gave her a sympathetic smile.

"Imagine sparring with her," he commented and Stella's eyes widened.

"_Damn._"

"Yep. My reaction every time i was through fighting her when we were training together as new recruits. I'd go to the shower rooms black and blue and no one had to ask what happened. Phil though..._man_. He managed to land _her_ flat on her back a few times. He was good. _Really_ good. Who knows? Maybe you will be too, with the proper training." He smiled and put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a comforting squeeze as they entered the world of S.H.I.E.L.D.

The main hallway was a giant domed room that was bustling with people in suits of all different sorts, and the gray eagle emblem seemed to jump out at her from everywhere. Stella had to actually stop for a moment to take in all of the noise, the snippets of conversation, the bleeping of technology. Barton smirked at Romanoff.

"that was my reaction when i first saw the place too," he commented. Romanoff looked about herself.

"I don't know what my reaction was, i was drugged." Barton shrugged.

"Not my fault you were trying to tear my head off," he muttered before propelling Stel forward again. "Come on. Directors hate late people." When Stella entered the center of the base, she was met with a tall, intimidating figure before her, one dressed entirely in black that she knew well.

Director Nick Fury. Barton, Romanoff, and she stopped right in front of him and Fury looked down at her. Unperturbed, Stella looked right back. Several long seconds of silence ensued and those seconds stretched out to half a minute and then a minute and more. Both strong willed persons continued to stare at each other with that same dead serious look. But it didn't take a genius to see the glimmer of hate that occasionally slipped through the younger female's stare, borderline glare.

And still they stared on.


	6. Chapter 6

Fury looked at the girl in front of him and came to the same conclusions that Romanoff had: poised for fight, nervous, and having slight mental problems. Well, not _problems_, problems, but mental...complications. However, he also looked at the physical attributions of Stella Coulson, considering her carefully. His mind began filing away these features for her placement, rapidly categorizing. Very athletic: obviously a track and field runner; brown eyes that seemed to see more than the average person; a tall - no, maybe average - height that seemed to be able to pack a punch; and an intense stare. That intense stare that scared him because it reminded him so much of Phil. There weren't many people in S.H.I.E.L.D. who could make Fury lose a staring contest, and then again, those who did beat him were usually dead or comatose, eyes stuck open.

But this girl beat him.

Fury finally had to blink and Hill raised an eyebrow in surprise. She herself knew how hard it was to make him blink first. But this girl, Phil's daughter managed it, and, just to continue to annoy Fury it seemed, Stella continued to stare at him long after the contest was over without blinking.

"Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D. Ms. Coulson," he said holding a hand out to her. Warily, the new recruit took it and both felt the strength in the other's grip: hers from school P.E. and climbing, his from battle hardened experience and they both knew that the other was a force to be reckoned with. And the Director realized that he had been mistaken in not wanting her to be recruited. She was raw potential, nothing more and nothing less.

"You are to undergo your assessment immediately. Follow Hill," he ordered curtly, turning and walking away from her. The woman walked by her, not sparing her a glance and the girl followed after looking over her shoulder to give a wan smile to Barton and Romanoff. She didn't know why but she felt attached to them. It certainly wasn't about her dad. It was something more. When she turned to look before herself again, she ran to catch up with the agent, noting the stiff walk and serious manner.

"Should I change into something?" Stella asked tentatively and Hill looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you have anything to change into?" The girl dropped the topic, noting the short way the woman answered things: she seemed a bit cranky.

"What will i be doing?"

"Obstacle courses, arms evaluations...the usual," Hill responded tersely. Stella's eyes widened at the use of "the usual." That was a very eventful usual then. "You get used to it. That and the bruises." Stella shrugged.

"Well, I know how that works. I've had my share of falls," she commented, trying to make conversation. She was sorely disappointed when the agent made no response. Then, her intimidating answer stopped her from making any other comments.

"Not like this."

_Well_ then.

~'*'~

"Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s testing room. Our junior agents call it the Gladiator Pit," Hill remarked as they looked in on a panel of one way glass into a darkened complicated course of what she guessed to be twisting winding halls. She couldn't be sure though. "I assume that you'll be doing the testing for field agent?'

"Uh, yeah," Stella answered, slightly distracted. Hill smirked at the girl's obvious wonder at the new world around her. "When do i start?" Hill looked down at the carefully concealed eagerness beside her.

"Right now. Just go in that door, the other recruits will be in there to take the test with you. It's a sort of competition." Stella nodded and walked in, eyes adjusting rapidly to the dim lighting.

"Alright, everyone here?" came Sitwell's voice and the man looked around at everyone, eyes flicking back to Stella once as he matched her familiar face with a name. "Okay, so we'll go by age superiority. Oldest go first, youngest go last. There's a fifteen second lapse between age groups, so I'll split you up into those groups now...Stephenson, Knight, Johanna, you'll go first. Lee, Manda, Cecilia you'll go second. And Stella, you'll go last as youngest. Go through the obstacle course first and then go into the shooting range obstacle course. You CAN sabotage other recruits, but CANNOT incapacitate them. Good luck, and may the best one for the job win." Stella took a deep breath and looked in front of her stoically as the groups went through, fifteen seconds ticking by slowly, until it was her turn.

"Go, Coulson," Sitwell said, eyeing her carefully. She looked around in the gloom at his barely outlined face and ran forward into the dark winding path, eyes roving the darkness.

Here went nothing. And everything.

She could hear the clomping of the heavy booted feet of her military opponents and was thankful for her dark jeans; black, high collared jacket; and black converse. She was quieter and blended in a bit more. Adrenaline pumped through her and light glinted off of the concealed security cameras. So far, it was just a black maze, no obstacles. She knew better than to try and catch up with the military personnel right now. She would just tire herself out. Hopefully they would just forget she existed or count her out as weak. Hopefully.

Just as she thought that, however, a tall dark figure stepped out in front of her from a shadow up ahead and raised an arm menacingly at her. Barely thinking, she threw herself forward to the ground in a somersault and hit the man behind his knee. When he fell down, she recognized his bald, scarred head as that man Knight. She rolled back to her feet and continued running, yelling in surprise as a trip wire was fired and she fell flat on her face. Swearing to herself, she pushed back to her feet and continued running only to see a strange projectile fly at her stomach and knock her flat on her back. Completely winded, and stomach very sore, Stella lay there, wheezing. Knight ran past her, laughing at her foolishness and she glowered at him. She angrily got back up and ran in top school sprinter mode, light on her feet and her speed cutting down the distance drastically fast so that she passed Knight, Johanna, and Manda. She relished their surprised looks - was slightly worried by the growl Knight gave her - when she saw a padded robotic arms swinging out at her from the wall at head height, another at stomach height. Bending over backwards, she fell to her knees and slid across the floor only to get hit in the head by Stephenson as she rocked back to her feet, the oldest of the contestants.

"OW, JERK!" she shouted, scrambling back up, her mother's anger ignited in her. Noting something manic in her glare, Stephenson shook his head in a rude, condescending way.

"You're insane. You don't deserve this opportunity," he said to her contemptuously as they circled each other.

"I'm as sure as hell insane. That's what makes me special," she growled. Stephenson laughed.

"Sorry little girl. This is an adult's game. Go on home to your mummy and daddy. I'm sure they're stupid and slow, completely unworthy of this place," he taunted and that snapped her. Stella lashed out and her foot crashed into his knee with a loud crack that surprised both parties involved. As Stephenson fell to the ground, a voice came on over the PA.

"Remember, _no incapacitating!_" Sitwell scolded and Stella took off running again. She had to be careful now, she'd broken the rules. Dummies were flipped up in the pathway and she lashed out at them, aiming for necks and heads, anything that she thought would be of consequence. Really though, she wasn't thinking. She was just doing._ That instinct i told Barton and Romanoff about...maybe it's more than what i thought it_ was...A projectile shot out of the wall and slammed painfully hard into her ribs and she could have swore she heard a crack, collapsing against the opposite wall. _Okay, maybe not._

At that thought, she reached a wide arena sort of thing located at the center of the "maze" and saw Lee and Cecilia at the door on the other side, racing each other farther into the course. Before her was a whole force of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents wearing some sort of strange suit probably to calculate the consequences of the recruits strikes. Like those fencing outfits in the Olympics...she thought curiously.

"Okay then," she whispered and ran forward, clumsily following through with moves she recalled from movies she had seen: twirls, somersaults, kicks, punches, improvised weapons using the actual people around her. She moved in a blind series of actions though, not even thinking about what she was doing. Just kick, just hit, and hope for the best. Knight, Manda, and Johanna passed her by just before she finished and she scowled. When she got to the other doorway and had vanished into the halls again, a thought struck her. She looked up and thought she saw different shades of black above her. Could it be?

Stella reached up and grabbed the edge of the black stone wall that made up the winding mess of corridors. It was about three feet taller than she was. And no one had noticed. She bounced slightly on the balls of her feet and jumped, pulling herself onto it. She stood up precariously balanced on the top of the wall. She looked out and could see the blue light at the end of the "maze" that led to the shooting range. Then, she looked at the corridors of the mess of close, narrow "halls" and grinned.

Johanna, who was running as fast as he could, looked over her shoulder as he saw a peripheral shadow. Must be that woman named Cecilia. Must be. She turned back around and poured on more speed. She could only hope that she could outrun them.

Cecilia saw a shadow pass over her, or rather thought she did. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw something. Must be Knight...Manda and Johanna were too slow.

Knight was running and just dodged a few obstacles, dealing swift, deadly blows to the dummies. He too looked up as he sensed a shadow pass over him. He didn't know what it was and it scared him: there was no one behind him except the girl and Stephenson, and neither were suited for moving that quickly.

Stella swore in her head as she nearly fell off the "maze" walls, leaping on instinct and hoping that she wouldn't fall off and blow her genius plan. She looked down and smirked slightly as she realized that the others sensed her but didn't see her. It was a good feeling. But as she looked ahead of her, she realized that Lee and Cecilia would make it to the end before she would. It was time to try a flying leap.

Knight came up behind Cecilia and grabbed her shoulders throwing her back into the hallway where she slipped on the sand pit that they had to leap over and swore as she lost her sense of direction and her vision swam. Knight gave her a fake bow and ran after Lee. The woman angrily stood up and began running again, but fell as something went wrong with her upper thigh. Looking down at it, she sighed in frustration and began pressing and turning something there. After a satisfying clunk, she rose, looking up as she sensed the shadow. Cecilia stopped and stared: that _girl. That girl has outsmarted us all..._she admitted and began clapping and gave a play cheer after her.

"YOU GO GIRL!" she shouted. She had to see how this would work out, so the woman pulled herself up onto the wall - how had none of them noticed that? - and smiled as she saw the shadow leaping rapidly away, headed for Knight.

~'*'~

Stella smiled as she heard Cecilia shout that after her and realized that that woman would have made a good agent. She was kinder than the others, not a jerk, and actually competent. But she realized she had one shot at this. Knight was running and about to go around a corner when she jumped, feet landing on his shoulders and slamming him forward into the wall. Thankfully he was just dazed. She didn't think S.H.I.E.L.D. would like it if she took out _another_ recruit.

"Sorry bout that," Stella said before running down the halls to catch up to Lee. Lee heard the crash and thought that Stephenson had shown up. Wouldn't surprise him, that man's reputation was well known.

So he was completely thrown off when a thin, light, and wiry young girl latched onto his back and tackled him to the ground. But that attack didn't go as planned. Lee was just as agile as she was and they grappled on the ground for a while, Stella looking around for anything, when her hand touched a cold metal on the man's belt. A flashlight. _Oh no, you didn't_, she thought darkly to herself and pulled it free from his pocket, slamming it down on his head.

"OW!" Lee shouted, crumpling and cradling his head.

"No flashlight, cheater," Stella said and stood up to start running again when pain inflamed in her ankle. Damn it: he'd twisted it. But when she heard Johanna and Manda coming up fast, she turned and forgot about her pain, limping/running to the door to fling it open. She hadn't realized it, but a sense of fear had been building in her stomach, when she was running. Black and green armor, gleaming with gold had lurked at the corners of her vision, unnoticed until the end when the darkness was now oppressive, not serving a purpose. A loud buzzer sounded and all of the lights flashed on, the walls sinking into the ground. Stephenson had limped his way down the path pretty far and Knight was stumbling to his feet. Johanna and Manda were right before the last exit point of the "maze" and Cecilia was walking over, smirking. Lee was sitting up blearily and glared at the teenager.

"You got to be kidding me," Stephenson growled. "_She_ was the one who got there first?" Stella gave a small smile and shrugged.

"I'm fast," she replied and Cecilia winked at her.

"Stephenson report to the medics outside. Knight, Lee, are you capable of continuing?" Sitwell's voice came over the PA and the two gentlemen stood up immediately.

"Yes sir," they both said in chorus.

"Ms. Coulson, do you require dressings for your ankle?" Stella looked down at it and tilted her head in contemplation.

"I'll be fine," she finally answered and Sitwell closed the PA channel, turning to look at Romanoff, Barton, and Fury, who were standing there, watching the video surveillance. Cecilia walked over to her, clapping her on the shoulder and shaking her hand.

"Don't think we've formally been introduced. Cecilia Forest." Her smile was genuine and kind, almost supportive. "You?"

"I'm Stella. Stella Coulson," she answered. "Thanks for what you said to me." Cecilia laughed. And for some reason, it was a familiar laugh.

"True ingenuity there. I have to commend you for that," she laughed. "That and the fact that you beat the living crap out of Stephenson. He's a moron."

"Yeah, i kinda figured that out."

~'*'~

"She's good," Barton said after a while as they re-watched the clips of her. Sitwell laughed.

"She's volatile, Agent Barton. I don't know if she should continue: she's liable to kill someone. I mean, did you see what she did to Stephenson?" Romanoff scoffed and leaned against the console.

"He was a jerk. I would have done that to him."

"How was he a -"

"Go back. Listen to what he said to her," she said, looking down at her fingers in disinterest. Sitwell shrugged and did as the assassin said and brought up the clip.

_"You're insane. You don't deserve this opportunity."_

_"I'm as sure as hell insane. That's what makes me special."_

_"Sorry little girl. This is an adult's game. Go on home to your mummy and daddy. I'm sure they're stupid and slow, completely unworthy of this place."_

"That's low," Barton muttered, flexing his hands. Fury gave him a warning look and the archer glared. "Phil? That's Phil he just insulted. And his daughter, and his wife!" Fury still looked at him. "Fine, I won't do anything. What did you think i would do?" Fury and Sitwell wisely decided not to respond to that. "What do you think Director?" When Fury looked at him in bafflement, Natasha took up what she knew her friend was getting at.

"Do you still think of her as normal?" Fury didn't respond to the question and instead nodded to Sitwell.

"Back to live video, Agent." Sitwell nodded and pressed a few buttons. "I'm leaving again." He began walking off and Romanoff turned to face him.

"To your _place_ that no one knows where?" Fury didn't respond and continued to walk. He was beginning to garner suspicion about where he was going and that wasn't good.

~'*'~

"Recruits, you'll now be entering the shooting range course. If you incapacitate someone you will be _eliminated_, do you understand?" Stella nodded and rolled her shoulders, favoring her right ankle. It was starting to hurt more and she didn't know if it would get past her high pain tolerance level.

The doors slid open and the same groupings and entrance rules were followed, Stella limping out, wincing at the pain in her foot. The lights were on this time and she ran to the arms rack, pulling out the first gun: I actually know how to use this one, she thought to herself and watched as the others fired as though it were no big deal. Seeing her just standing there, holding the gun limply in her arms, they rolled their eyes and turned their focus away from her. All except Cecilia, who kept a watchful eye on her.

She looked for her set of targets and swung the shot gun up to her shoulder, cocked, and fired in a single smooth motion.

_"Okay, so, listen carefully to me."_

_"I'm listening, dad..." she said, slightly aggravated. "Why am i learning this?"_

_"Trust me, it may save your life some day. For most single pump shotguns, take a shell - this thing - and orient it so that the brass part is facing the back of the shotgun. Got it so far?" She nodded. "Okay, cup it in your hand, and lift it up into the loading port directly ahead of the trigger. There you go, now be careful this is now a LOADED weapon."_

_"Got it dad, I'm not stupid..."_

_"I beg to differ on some occasions - " Stella playfully nudged him. "SEE. Loaded weapon and you're goofing off! Okay, hold the gun with one hand on the forearm...and one on the grip behind the trigger. Yes, that's it. Now, assume a stance angled roughly...40 degrees to the right of your target. Now, you want to push the shotgun slightly away from you. Move the shotgun's butt - " she smirked and her dad gave her a look. "The part that touches your shoulder...in a subtle arc to your shoulder. Make sure it makes proper contact with your cheek - "_

_"What constitutes as proper contact?" Her dad moved her arms and grip until it was perfectly situated._

_"There. Now, this is important because it ensures proper eye alignment. That helps you aim. Pull the gun snuggly into your shoulder, click the safety off, point the gun at the target, and pull the trigger. Now make sure you pull it abruptly, because all of this is on one line to make sure it happens smoothly and automatically. Well, after a LOT of practice. Give it a try."_

She moved the gun slightly to the left and pulled the trigger in the same way, and did the same for every other target, hidden or not. Her dad's instructions whispered in her mind again and she was thankful for that day in their backyard, summer of her freshman year in high school. In about 15 seconds, her six shots were fired and she loaded the next six in a movement that her dad had ingrained into her mind. Up in the observatory room, Romanoff smirked at Sitwell's surprised face.

"Didn't expect that out of her did you?" she asked him and the man threw his hands up in the air.

"_No_, but i should have. Phil's daughter, what more did i expect?"

As the last shell tinkered on the ground with an almost pretty sound, Stella clicked the safety back on and set it down on the rack before her and picked up a hand gun similar to the one she had found in her dad's sock drawer once as a kid when she was looking for lone pairs of socks to turn into sock puppets. This one she didn't know how to use though and she looked out of the corner of her eye to see Cecilia suspiciously close to her.

"Aren't you _not_ supposed to help me?" Stella asked, eyeing the weapon in her hands as though it were completely alien (which to her it was).

"Can't verbally tell you," she responded shortly and slowly went through the process of loading, cocking, aiming, and firing so that the girl could see what she was doing. "Takes a while to get used to the recoil." Stella swallowed and tried firing, swearing under her breath as she missed. This was not going to look great after her performance with the shotgun. Focusing though, she aimed again and compensated for the recoil, nailing the next five shots, each one progressively closer to the bull's-eye. After several more weapons like that, Sitwell's voice came over the PA.

"Would Forest, Coulson, and Lee proceed to the obstacle course with the airsoft gun of their choice?" Cecilia looked down at Stella and grinned, sliding the shot gun to her. She took her hand gun with several extra clips and Lee took one of the strange rifles they had used. They all lined up at the start line and when Sitwell told them to go, they all took off running, Stella running on her toe when she stepped down with her right foot. She was pathetically slower this time and realized she was going to have to be smart. She raised the shotgun and fired at the first two targets that were ducking in and out of windows on a motorized arm and nailed both in the head. Stella felt a strange sort of relief at the familiar sound of bullets hitting the target and at the feel of the weapon in her arms. She nailed the other targets, loaded rapidly, and was just about to continue when she came around the corner to see Cecilia dazed on the ground and Lee aiming his rifle at her. He pulled the trigger and the girl spun back around to hide behind the metal column a target was swinging back and forth on. The patter of the BB pellets spooked her a little bit but she soon got used to it and the idea that she was being shot at.

"Not getting past here, girl!" Lee shouted and Stella held her weapon up before her, looking to the side at the reflective panels on the wall. If she ran out here and jumped off that other window thing towards Lee, she might be able to get leverage. Spinning out and firing once at the man - a shot that almost hit his head - and jumping off the short window, Stella aimed her gun and pulled the trigger, pellet hitting the guy right in the neck. However, other than causing Lee a lot of pain and getting him really angry, it didn't do much and he swung his gun around to hit her in the side of the head. As she lay there and saw stars, Lee stalked over her stomped down on her face only to step into a strong grip that twisted his body around completely and he fell to the ground moaning.

"You don't touch my star runner like that," Cecilia snarled, standing up from where she had thrown herself between the girl and Lee.

"Forest what the hell! You don't even know that girl!" Lee growled. Forest scoffed and pulled her blond wig off to reveal dark brown hair that had been pulled back in a pony tail and the action also revealed her darker skin tone near her hair line. His eyes widened. "What - "

"Try Veronica Rodriguez, Lee," she said softly and swung her gun down on the side of his head. "You aren't getting any farther than this." She turned around to look at a very surprised Stella and held a hand down to her. "Take my hand, Stel." Astonished, the girl took the proffered hand and was hauled to her feet. "Now, shall we finish this?"

Sitwell nodded to himself as he saw Rodriguez help the girl up and walk her down the rest of the obstacle course. He could tell that the girl had thought her ankle was sprained, not broken. Well, that certainly wasn't the case. But he was surprised she was still walking on it as much as she was and still taking good shots. And he was even more satisfied when he saw Rodriguez stop and gesture Stella on alone to finish the last of the course herself. Suddenly, though, an alarm started wailing at him and he looked to the first camera screen that showed the other contestants. And swore.

Stella looked up as Sitwell came on the PA.

"Rodriguez, we have a 49 rogue, all contestants down." Stella furrowed her brow and looked back to Rodriguez only to see her frantically running at her to drag her into a small culvert in the obstacle course. "Sending in Hawkeye and Black Widow, stay low."

"What the hell does that mean?" she asked, looking out.

"Means that there's a rogue contestant in room 49," Rodriguez breathed, scanning the area.

"Where's room 49?" Stella asked carefully. Rodriguez gave a sarcastic, bitter laugh.

"Here. He or she took out all the other contestants, too." There was a loud gun shot and a brief scream and Rodriguez closed her eyes. "That was Lee." Reaching into her belt, she pulled out a clip of live rounds and put them in her airsoft gun. "It goes both ways," she explained to the confused looking girl. "You stay under and run when i tell you to." Stella looked at her sharply.

"Wait, what? What if that person shoots you?!"

"Then I get shot. Just get out." Stella pulled out her shotgun.

"Does this go both ways too?" Rodriguez nodded and passed her some ammunition from a bag she had on her belt.

"Only shoot if she gets by me," she breathed.

"She?" Stella asked and followed Rodriguez's gaze. Johanna, silent Johanna, was standing there, looking out at the obstacle course, bloody hand holding her rifle close.

"Damn it, how did i not notice that tattoo?" Rodriguez swore to herself. "On her neck? It's a star, for one of the cults we're taking care of right now. Apparently they don't like that..." At that last sentence, she stood up and raised the gun, firing rapidly. The woman fell backwards off the set's parapet and Rodriguez hauled Stella to her feet.

"Run, now." Stella swung the shotgun into her arms and ran for the far exit, watching it get closer at an agonizingly slow pace. She heard another gun shot and some wood splintered by her shoulder, spurring her to run faster. When another bullet was alarmingly close and she could hear footsteps behind her, she stood around, sighted rapidly and pulled the trigger. What happened next felt like slow motion.

She could see Rodriguez laying on the ground where they had been hiding, Hawkeye by her. She had no idea where Romanoff was, but Johanna was running at her, gun aimed and finger tightening on the trigger. Stella swung the gun up and pulled the trigger at the same momenta as her opponent. Johanna's head snapped backwards and she crumpled to the ground. The bullet headed for the girl held her frozen in fear and suddenly a black clothed figure tackled her and knocked her flat to the ground, bullet embedding itself in the wall.

"Hawkeye, threat neutralized," Black Widow said standing from where she had fallen on the ground by Stella. "Status of Agent Rodriguez?"

"She's probably going to be okay," he finally responded and he waved a hand at Sitwell. The doors opened and agents came in with stretchers and medical personnel. Hawkeye walked over, his named persona fading away into plain Agent mode as he came closer.

"Nice shot, Nat," he commented, as he looked down at Johanna's head while passing. Romanoff raised an eyebrow.

"Wasn't my shot," she stated and Clint looked at Stella who was still sitting on the floor stunned.

"Are you okay, Stella?" he asked her, squatting down by her. Stella continued to look straight ahead, almost trembling. "Hey?" She looked up at him shakily.

"I just killed someone," she whispered, "And I didn't think twice about it." Neither of the adults said anything and the medics came over to kneel before the girl, doing tests for concussions, checking up on her condition. She answered their question half heartedly, one thought repeating in her mind.

She had killed and hadn't thought twice. Just aimed and pulled the trigger. Ended a life without thought. From the observation window, Fury nodded at the numb way she was nodding and answering questions. She was already part of this world with her first kill. He had seen the way she had calmly turned, aimed and pulled the trigger without thinking. It was admirable.

_I killed. I pulled the trigger like she was just another target. Just a slab of wood...of cardboard...styrofoam...Not living, breathing...like me_

_She would make a good assassin._

_I just wanted to be an agent._


	7. Chapter 7

Stella was sitting in the psychiatric ward of the base, staring at the plain white wall in front of her. She didn't know how much longer she would be able to take this waiting. Lee had been pronounced dead on scene along with Manda, both shot through the heart. Knight was shot through the head, but somehow was still alive, though they didn't think that he'd make it. Rodriguez was in surgery at the moment as they removed the bullets in her chest and arms. A fair share of those shot at her had hit her prosthetic leg though, so she wasn't as bad off as she could have been. But she was still tacky, borderline stable. Stella shivered as she realized _she_ was the only one who made it out almost physically unscathed. Mentally though, that was yet to be determined.

The monotonous, predictable questions played over in her head again and again as the pencil scribbled down her responses. It had happened over an hour ago, that interrogation, but the words and the sounds were as loud and clear as ever.

~'*'~

"Sir, her psychiatric exams show her to be very troubled by memory. She blames herself for things she could not have fixed or stopped and is haunted by those things in nightmares. I think she just hasn't had anyone to fully let go of the pain with. Her mother is in a worse state than her, according to Rodriguez's report. If the girl had a close friend as a psychiatrist right now, that could do wonders for her. She has a big guilt complex, and this part baffles me: she always seems to have this image in her mind, her subconscious mind at least," Dr. Jones said handing a shaky drawing to the director. "I put her under hypnosis, told her to draw what she feared the most and what she hated the most. Same drawing for both of them."

"I need to go talk to someone about this," Fury said solemnly, rising, and taking the two papers with him. "I'll be back in a moment." He walked out of the room and Dr. Jones nodded to herself before walking back into the room with the girl.

~'*'~

Stella looked up as the door opened and watched the woman carefully.

"Hello, Stella, I'm Dr. Jones," she said, all smiles and kindness. _Figures_, Stella thought to herself, looking away. _Isn't that what they always do when they have bad news_. "Well, we have some things to talk about with you. First off, i know you had a scare down in room 49. How are you feeling?" Stella stared at the plain white table, not caring about what the woman was asking her. "Stella? Are you feeling okay?" Still no answer. "Stella, it'll help to get it out, i swear."

"You sound like Rodriguez now," she said lowly. "Psychiatrists really need to develop better chat lines." Dr. Jones looked down in frustration. This girl was not cooperating with her.

"You know, your dad was just like you. Stubborn to a fault." Stella slowly looked up with an almost dangerous look in her eyes. "Do you want to know what you drew for what you feared most? What you hated most?" Stella didn't respond again. "You drew _Loki_. You're getting eaten up by this hatred and fear of the man who killed your father. Stella, you need to let it go - "

"I can't LET IT GO!" she screamed standing abruptly. "My father was MURDERED!" Natasha and Clint watched carefully from the one way glass. "Write that down in your little notebook! I'm angry! I'm scared! I just KILLED a human being and could have cared less! What am I? WHAT AM I?!"

"Stella, I need you to calm down," the doctor said forcefully, worry beginning to build. The signs were all there, she didn't need to see their outcome.

"Oh no, you don't get me calm any more, you brought this out!" Stella said unsteadily, angrily. "I was FINE! I was withdrawn, an introvert! I was keeping everything in check. Then you had to bring HIM up! YOU HAD TO!" Seeing the hysteria that was building, Jones looked to the glass and Clint turned around, walking into the room.

"Stella, you really need to calm down," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder and she looked around, that instability everyone had noticed before now as bright as day in her eyes.

"I can't. I'm turning into something, what is it?" she asked him desperately. "What have you made me?" Something about the mere child before him made Barton shiver and he gently turned her to face him completely. "What's happening to me?"

"You...have been exposed to a world that you have _never_ been exposed to before. You're going through what normal people don't go through...aren't _supposed_ to go through _ever_ in their lives. You just need to rest and adjust, Stel. Okay?" Stella slowly began taking deep breaths and Clint helped her sit down, noting that she still maintained a strong grip on his arms. "Are you going to be okay?" he asked her softly, kneeling before her. There was a soft padding of footfalls and Romanoff came into the room to look down at her sympathetically.

"Dr. Jones, can you give us a minute?" the red head asked and the doctor nodded, rising and leaving. She knelt down before Stella and just looked at her. "Stella, you need to listen to me. Are...you...listening?" she asked slowly, making sure her words were getting through. Stella looked at her and nodded. "I understand that you are overwhelmed right now. What you need to know is that this...this whole thing that you're feeling right now...that's completely normal. We all feel this at some point in our lives when we're working for S.H.I.E.L.D. It's adjustment. It's guilt. But what you need to realize is that the people you kill are people who deserve to die. You killed one of the pawns for a cult that is a big problem right now in the area. Smugglers for contraband weapons, drugs, explosive mixtures in so many different ways. You just did your country a service. You aren't bad. You're good." Stella nodded and took several deep breaths. A shaky laugh came out of her mouth for some reason and Romanoff nodded to herself and Clint stood back up. "Now then. Welcome to the group."

Again that strange half quirk at the mouth. And Stella knew right then that everything was going to be okay.

~'*'~

"I'm not asking for your permission," Fury said coolly. The angry glares of the Council stared down at him and he looked right back. "I'm telling you this is what is going to happen." The woman shifted in her seat and leaned forward on her desk to address the borderline rogue Director.

"Director Fury. You have been on our radar for a long time as something of a loose cannon. We don't know which way you'll swing, and therefore we try to keep dangerous topics like this out of your hands." Fury scoffed.

"The Avengers were less dangerous than what you had in mind. Phase 2 killed more people than the Initiative did, and you're telling me that you think I'm the one who has the reckless ideas? You were going to launch a nuclear attack on Manhattan!" Wisely, the Council didn't respond and instead steered the conversation back to their original topic.

"Agent Romanoff is not fit for this assignment. She's the most volatile of all of us, and the most dangerous. She's unreliable. Giving her an apprentice is the worst thing you can do right now. Give her to someone else, like Barton, if you must. But we refuse this appointment for this recruit."

"Have you seen the footage?" the one eyed man asked harshly. "Did you watch it?" They hesitated and looked down at their hands, papers, anything except the hard gaze directed at them. "She's strong, she's fast, and a deadly good shot. She's a quick learner, and picks up anything in a scenario in a heart beat. She has the potential to become a vital asset to us. I think she can become an assassin." Now the Council was looking at him in something near anger.

"Director, S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't create assassins. We _take_ them in and turn them into _agents_. You can't make this...girl - for that is what she is, do not argue the fact - an assassin. Her innocence has already been destroyed enough, she does not need to be thrown head first into what you do."

"These drawings are images of what she fears the most and what she hates the most," Fury said after a calculated silence, dragging his fingers across the glass panel over the drawings and throwing them up into the air where they hovered before the Council members. "Under hypnosis, she drew an accurate - _unfortunately_ accurate - picture of Loki Laufeyson. And the reason for this is that this man is responsible for the death of her father, who was my right hand man: Agent Philip J Coulson."

"Director, we understand the emotional attachment to this girl because of her father, but don't you think that you are being a little...premature...with this desire to recruit her as an assassin?" Fury looked at each of them in turn before speaking again.

"Agent Coulson was one of the best agents that I had. And it is as plain as _day_ that this girl has her father's skill. And right now this girl, with her father's talents, wants to put a bullet in Loki's head." Now, the Council looked at him attentively. "It's what she hates, what she fears. Both of those together it makes her a weapon. Dangerous. In fact, she almost went out of control in our psychiatric ward. If we can harness that anger, funnel it into something more controlled, _compact_, she could be a great asset to S.H.I.E.L.D." Fury paused for effect. "In fact, I know that she _will_ be Romanoff's prodigy. I know you won't approve, but she has what it takes. Jane Foster has been working on a way with Doctor Selvig on creating an inter-realm form of travel. You were not happy at all with Loki's punishment, and you had every reason not to be. I respect Thor, but I don't like the idea of a manic god floating around somewhere. His unpredictable nature makes me a mite twitchy. And we have a very skilled, motivated young woman who can get in and out, do it clean, with the proper training."

"In and out of where?" one of the projected faces asked in the silence that followed and Fury gave that small smirk of his as he leaned back in his chair. The question was one of confirmation not curiosity. He had them.

"That's for you to decide."

~'*'~

Doctor Jones smiled gratefully at the young woman before her and set her pencil down on the white desk with a soft tap that seemed as loud as a gun shot in the girl's mind. _Gun shots..._

_"_You are all done now, thank you Stella," the woman said softly. "Thank you for finally cooperating. I know it must be hard for you to recount those nightmares for me. Both literal and figurative." Both awkwardly looked at the untouched tissue box between them. Faking a smile, Stella nodded.

"It wasn't that hard, but it was good for me, too," she lied. "Thank you for not...freaking out about me earlier." Jones laughed and Stella mimicked the sound, looking down at her hands.

"Don't worry, I get much bigger nut cases than you in here on a day to day basis. I'll be seeing you around, Ms. Coulson." The older woman stood, the student following suite, extending her hand to shake that of the doctor. "Oh, pardon my manners." Shifting her clipboard, notebook, and pen to her other arm, she took the offered hand and shook it, surprised by the amount of force behind the grip. The message was simple and clear: she hadn't gotten to the bottom of this child, and probably never would unless said girl wanted herself to be understood. The realization made her wonder how much of what Phil's daughter had just told her was true.

"Well, I have some other patients to see to," Jones said in her way of goodbye. "People get hurt everyday in here. Oh, thank you Sam..." she said in an aside as a male nurse entered and handed her a report, leaving the room without a second glance to the other occupant in the room. Jones skimmed it and sighed in sadness.

"Bad news?" Stella asked in soft curiosity in the silence that followed. Jones nodded and made her way to leave. "What happened?"

"Knight just died. The extent of the internal bleeding was too much for him and the brain damage was too extensive." She shook her head in sadness. "Such is the life at S.H.I.E.L.D. The number of dead I have given times and dates for makes you think i would get used to it..." she sighed, shook her head and left the room. Stella managed to glimpse one name off the report before the door closed: Rodriguez.

"Wait!" she called, running out of the room after Jones. "Doctor? Doctor!" The woman turned around and gave a sad half smile. "What about Rodriguez? I'm sorry to bother you, but she was my coach at my high school." Jones sighed, smiled in reluctance again, and held out a slip of paper to her.

"Room 104. Down the hall two corridors and first door on your left." Stella took it and smiled, giving her a quick nod.

"Thank you." With that, she turned and ran. She was scared, but she wanted to see her mentor. However when she neared the room and saw the swarms of nurses crowded around the one small hospital bed and barely glimpsed the bandaged chest, arms, and legs, she stopped, hovering uncertainly by the doorframe. One of the nurses happened to look over his shoulder and see her there and tapped his female coworker on her shoulder, muttering something and jerking his head in Stella's direction. The girl made to withdraw but a weaker voice stopped her.

"'S all right. I know her. She can come in." The nurses backed away from the bed and at Rodriguez's tired urging and slowly the room emptied until the two women were left in the room together. In an awkward silence, Stella pulled a chair up beside the wounded agent and Rodriguez gently patted the girl's hand smiling.

"You did well in there," she croaked, wincing as speaking hurt her chest. "Sorry, stupid gunshot wounds." Stella gave a short laugh and looked down. "Seriously, I watched the footage. You have a good moral center, Stella." the girl looked at her in confusion.

"How? I killed someone."

"But you waited, Stella. And that is the most important part. You waited until you saw you were alone against her. You waited until there was no other alternative until you pulled that trigger. I wish you never had to pull it, but you did what you had to. Okay?" Stella nodded and Rodriguez coughed a few times. "Never get shot, Stel. Hurts like a bitch," she half joked and both women laughed slightly, the speaker wincing. "It was worth it, though. Drawing her attention away from you."

"You shouldn't have," Stella admonished lightly and became concerned as her companion grimaced. "Are you okay?" Rodriguez nodded wearily. "Maybe you should rest." The ex-agent looked up at her and shook her head.

"Can't rest. Not right now." She took a few deep breaths and shifted in her bed. "I was talking with your mother, Stella. She loves you very much and is very proud of you. You should know that." She closed her eyes and was silent for a few minutes. The woman had fallen asleep.

"I know, coach. I know," Stella said softly, in an unheard response. The next several days followed this pattern as Barton and Romanoff were drawn into long meetings with Fury, sent off on "milk run missions" as Barton called them. All the while, Stella felt like she was a hindrance and remained in that one hospital room, talking with Rodriguez - joking around, the woman complimenting her appearance in the S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform - when she was awake and holding her hand when she was asleep. One day though, something was different. The woman's demeanor was more serious and they didn't talk about funny anecdotes from each others lives. Silence was the topic of the day and was duly observed. The adults eyes slowly drifted shut after about an hour and she remained silent and still like that for several minutes. Thinking she was asleep, Stella stood and was about to walk away when the grip on her hand tightened in restraint.

"Stella," the woman said softly, voice more gentle than it had been the past few days. the rasp was nearly gone and it wasn't accompanied by wincing. "There are specific things in this world that we cannot control. No matter how hard we try and change them...avoid them."

"Rodriguez, you really should be - "

"Veronica. Please, call me Veronica."

"Veronica...you should be resting." Veronica smirked, but then grew serious, gesturing her back into her seat.

"Stella, there are greater forces at work here. Especially in your life," she added in a whisper, tapping a finger against the girl's heart at the word you. "Your father faced these same forces. He was a shy young man, as you are a shy young woman. He reacted the same way you did, and look what happened to him." She smiled briefly at her and gripped her hand a little tighter before continuing.

"They shape your life, what you do, who you become. They are omnipresent and omnipotent. Forces of destiny." Her voice started fading as whatever narcotic they gave her began taking effect. "This base has never been infiltrated before. Until the day you came, and you stopped it." Her eyes opened wide again and there was a frightening lucidity to them. "No one has ever taken a stand against traffickers that effectively on our radar. You did. No one has run that fast before in my life. _You _did. Stella, you are the girl who does things that haven't been done before. You are meant to be here. And don't let...don't let..." the name was slurred, so Stella didn't catch it, "or...anyone else...change you. You are an agent, child. Don't forget that. You were _born_ for this. Go get 'em tiger." Stella nodded and looked down at the pale, gaunt face before her. She hadn't realized how sick the woman still looked until now, when she wasn't smiling or laughing.

"Veronica?" she asked as a thought struck her. "Are you alright?" The lucid stare continued on past her head and her faint voice, sounding just as it had whenever they had their meetings, said softly,

"I paid you back, Phil. She's safe. Just as I promised." There was a strange smile to her eyes and something too distant in that gaze. Then came the long beep.

"No," Stella said softly, standing unsteadily, eyes watering. Veronica's still hand fell out of her grasp and thudded loudly against the plastic side of the bed. "No, no, no!" She thought she was whispering it, but when nurses came sprinting into the room, and her throat ached as though someone had scratched it, she realized she had screamed it. As she sat there, on her knees on the ground, the medics checked for pulse, took note of readings and the dreaded, hallow words came out of that nurse Sam's mouth.

"Name of patient Veronica Rodriguez. Time of death...0800 hours..." Breathing suddenly seemed unnecessary. "Cause of death...complications from repeated bullet wounds to several internal organs..." So did hearing. The world spun and another wailing cry was drawn out of her as she stumbled to her feet and backed away from the door.

"Stella, what's going on?" came a slightly familiar voice and Maria Hill put a hand on her shoulder. "Director Fury wants to see - " Instead of heeding what the woman was saying, she turned and ran, pushing through the crowded hallways. When Fury and Hill finally found her, she was sitting very still with her knees drawn up to her chin, staring blankly ahead of herself in the shooting range of the "Gladiator Pit." It didn't take a genius to recognize where she was hiding. The bloodstains were still evident. And in her hands, fingers numbly going over the smooth metal of the trigger and barrel, was the shotgun. She looked up at the director and agent and stood up, nearly glaring at them through red rimmed eyes.

"What do I need to do?" she asked brokenly. "I want to join. What do I need to do?" Fury looked at her carefully.

"This isn't about revenge, Stella. We don't operate that way." Stella nodded.

"I know. I'm ready to do this the right way. I"m ready to help people, to make sure what i went through doesn't happen to any other person on this planet. Veronica told me that I was meant to be here. That I was born for this." She cocked the weapon and spun around, rapidly sighting and pulling the trigger to hit a distant, well hidden "human" target board dead between the eyes. Putting the safety on and turning back around, Stella said softly, "And I don't want to prove her wrong."

~'*'~

"Agent Rodriquez died while you two were on this mission," Fury said heavily as he looked up from Romanoff and Barton's report. "And looking back on it I wish that I had sent someone like Sitwell to do this one, because you were needed more here." Barton sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"How'd she take it?" he asked as though he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer. Fury looked at him with something close to empathy for their subject at hand.

"She could have done better. Scared the devil out of some nurses and doctors though because, boy, can that girl _scream_. She and Veronica were with each other when the latter passed away. I looked at the security feeds and they were talking for a while before it happened. I think it just traumatized her more than anything. But you should have seen the way she ran afterwards. She tore up the ground in almost record time for crowded hallways here and went to the shooting range where she and Veronica were hiding. Had the shotgun with her, pulled an incredible shot and then turned around to tell us she wanted in. She claims it wasn't for revenge, but - "

"If she says it wasn't revenge, sir, you had best believe it," Romanoff interrupted. "That girl has a big heart. If she wanted to join after this, it was to prevent it from happening again. She could care less if it happened to her, but if it happened to someone else, she would feel it as if it were the first time for her all over again." Fury nodded in acceptance of the defense and nodded briefly to Barton.

"Clint, could you give us a moment?" he asked and the agent nodded, backing out of the room to set off in search of Stella. Unsurprisingly, he found her in the weapons range, curiously looking at other people practice with their weaponry.

"Hey," he said sitting next to her and she couldn't help but smirk as she noticed all of the people in there immediately tightening up and trying to do better when her friend came in.

"Hey," she responded, trying to feign her normal self. It failed miserably and she closed her eyes in relief when Barton gently pulled her into a hug. The man was really likable and caring despite his S.H.I.E.L.D. "character." And she was grateful to have someone who just held her close at a time like this instead of badgering her with questions of how she felt and how she was doing. Just sat there and gave her the support she needed. No words had to be exchanged. For volumes were spoken in silence.

~'*'~

"Sir, is that really a good idea?" Romanoff asked her superior, dubiously. Fury gave her a look.

"You're sounding like the Council," he said, defeated. "I think it is a good idea."

"You're using her, Director," she said warningly. "I will not raise her for this job you want her to do. If i do anything of the sort it will to solely prepare her to be my successor. I will do nothing more and nothing less." Fury looked at her carefully.

"So if i sent her to do this...job...would you allow it?"

"It is her own choice," the Russian responded without missing a beat. "I will not make it for her. You wouldn't if Phil was around." the Director's expression became more tired and worn. "You know it's true." Fury looked back up at her, maintaining eye contact.

"Will you do it?" he asked in a tone that demanded a straight answer. Romanoff folded her arms a little tighter across her chest.

~'*'~

Clint looked around as Romanoff came into the room, appearing all business. Something was up and it was making him a little nervous.

"Coulson," she said in a formal tone and Clint's eyes widened. She only used that tone with - Stella turned around to see a heavy booted foot flying at her face and she dropped to the ground, staring at Romanoff in complete confusion as the woman followed up with a bewildering series of attacks that had her scrambling across the floor trying to avoid them - which she barely managed every time.

"What are you doing?!" Stella finally panted when Natasha hauled her up to her feet and looked at her contemplatively.

"Welcome to Black Widow training."

Only one thought ran through the young woman's mind:

_Oh shit._


	8. Chapter 8

"Dear diary: today I got thrown around the room like a rag doll and had the shit beaten out of me. It was the_ best day ever!_" Stella said sarcastically, practically falling over herself to collapse on her bed. _Nice of S.H.I.E.L.D. to provide me with quarters that looked like a freaking detention cell,_ she thought bitterly. She was aching all over, arms so sore she felt as though she couldn't move them and her abdomen feeling like it had just been used as a punching bag - which it kinda had been. On top of everything else, bruises were already starting to rise on her face and, well, everywhere else on her body. There was a light tap on her door and she almost said come in without checking who it was, but remembered that the last time she had done that, Romanoff had attacked the moment she opened the door, saying it was a _"hazard to say come in without checking"_ when you worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. Groaning slightly, she got to her feet, walked over to the door and slammed her head against it saying loudly,

"Romanoff, if it's you i swear i'm going to jump out the window _right_ now."

"I guess today didn't go well?" a voice that was shaking with something she assumed to be laughter. She looked through the peep hole, rolled her eyes and opened the door to greet Barton. He stopped laughing and looked at her almost wide-eyed. Her lip was split, she was getting a black eye, favoring one leg from what appeared to be her injured ankle and now injured knee, and over all looked as though she could collapse into a million pieces if he so much as tapped her.

"You think?" she answered sardonically, turning around to limp back to her bed. "You can come in, you know," she added as he awkwardly stood there by the door. Barton reached behind him and closed the door, coming in to sit on the desk.

"Natasha give you a hard time?" She opened one eye to stare at him in disbelief. "Okay, yeah that was a stupid question. I guess what I'm trying to ask is what happened." Stella started laughing at the ludicrous question and ended up grimacing as her bruised ribs protested.

"You really want to know?"

~'*'~

The day had started off promising to be one quite...memorable.

When she woke up, she had seen a pile of folded clothing on the footlocker by the foot of her bed. Picking them up, she saw they were an assortment of plain, close fitting tank tops and black yoga pants of some sort. Those she assumed were what she should wear that day and as she thought that, a knock sounded at the door. Out of force of habit, she didn't bother looking as she responded.

"Come in!" she called and the door opened almost noiselessly. As she turned around, Romanoff's forearm swung into her chest, knocking her flat on the ground and the assassin simply stepped over her, heading to and opening the blinds of the window to allow sunlight to stream in.

"Rule number two: always check who's at the door before you invite them in. It's a hazard to say come in without checking." Stella pushed herself up and, looking back on it, should have realized her day would go down hill from there. "Come on. You'll eat something light and then training starts."

Breakfast was nothing special: a piece of bread, some fruit, and lots of water. It _was_ light, so Stella guessed she would be doing a lot of physical activity that day. She was right, but not exactly in the way she expected.

"This is our fighting room. We practice wrestling, hand to hand, and all other sorts of physical endurance and education in here. This where we'll meet every day starting at five in the morning to ten at night with breaks between sparring." The people already fighting in the room looked over at them briefly before continuing trying to beat each other up in a...civilized way. "It will be long, hard, and painful, but i can promise you one thing. Once all of this is done, you will be what i promised you that day on the porch," Romanoff told her as they walked side by side farther into the room that had padded floors and walls with all sorts of equipment lining the walls.

_Untouchable,_ Stella thought to herself and took a deep breath, nodding.

"I understand," she said, voice quieter than she would have liked. She turned to face Natasha to ask her what they were going to do next only to see that the woman was no longer beside her. "Agent Romanoff?" Something cold touched the back of her head and the girl froze.

"Rule number three. Always be aware of where your opponent is," Romanoff said, lowering the gun from where she had had it held up to the young woman's head. "If i had been trying to kill you, you've been dead just then. Remember that."

"I think that's established," Stella said, turning around quickly to see her opponent deftly step out of her line of vision once more. "Is this what we're going to do all day?" A leg swept hers out from beneath herself and she crashed to the ground, vision swimming slightly. Romanoff stood over her and held a hand down to her. Noting her suspicious gaze, Romanoff shook her head.

"Rule number four. When you're sparring, you never hit someone when she's down." Stella took Romanoff's offered hand and then wisely ducked, lashing out with her own leg. Romanoff's kick missed Stella's head by a few inches as the girl dropped to the ground, but the Russian managed to kick off the ground on her one leg, doing some sort of horizontal flip that ended in one foot firmly on the ground again and the other painfully making contact with the girl's abdomen.

"Impressive, but predictable and easy to avoid," Romanoff said in that same calm way and helped the girl up again, this time not smirking as Stella backed far away from her.

"This what you do for all of your trainees?" Stella wheezed, rubbing her stomach. "Beat them up until they can't stand properly?"

"I never had an apprentice before," she answered coolly and Stella stared.

"I'm an apprentice then. Not a recruit you're just training," she stated uncertainly and Natasha nodded.

"Fury wants you to be an assassin. Not an agent," she said softly. Noting the tone used, Stella asked her next question without hesitation.

"Do you agree?" Romanoff tilted her head to the side.

"Let's find out."

And the sparring began. Or rather, the workout for the Russian. Then again, it wasn't _even_ a workout. It was more of an exercise routine. After one last painful kick that sent her sprawling, Stella refused to move again and instead just lay there, trying to regain her breath and some measure of _painlessness_. Unfortunately nothing happened save for the fact she started coughing when she tried to take deep breaths. Romanoff walked over once more as she had five hundred times before and sat on the ground by her.

"We'll take a break now," she said softly and nodded her head in the direction of the locker room. "Locker 2167. Combo's 12 56 20." Stella sat up wincing and made her way over to the doorway, stopping briefly to look behind her. Romanoff was simply sitting there, staring straight ahead of herself, as though she were invisible to the world. When she turned away from her new mentor - the thought of a _new_ mentor made her eyes smart as she thought of Rodriguez - and followed the signs to where her locker was.

Of course Romanoff would beat the living hell out of her and _then_ tell her that her locker was on the fourth floor.

Once she finally got there, ankle and knee really starting to hurt, despite the fact that her ankle had been treated, she was about ready to punch something. When she opened her locker however, she was greeted with a water bottle, towel, and other stuff that she could use for fighting with a note in it from the assassin.

_The contents of this locker will save your life during training. Remember that_.

Okay, way to be overdramatic, Stella thought to herself and took a drink before slamming the door shut and walking back down to the fighting room. Romanoff still hadn't moved from where she was sitting on her mat, stare lost in space. Trying not to disturb the woman's train of thought, wherever it may be heading, Stella lowered herself onto the mat, hissing briefly in pain as she bent her ankle the wrong way.

"Your ankle is re-injured," Romanoff said, not looking over at her as she spoke. "You should take care of that before we continue." Stella looked at her in disbelief.

"You expect me to fight in a splint? I can't fight normal against you, what do you think I'll be able to do with a splint on?" Natasha looked at her in that still serious way of hers.

"You're not supposed to be able to fight me," she said in response, sitting up and walking over to the locker rooms to vanish for a few minutes. Out of curiosity, Stella pulled off her shoe and took off her sock, rolling up her pants as well, to expose her ankle. It was bruised all around the bone and said bruise was starting to turn a purplish color.

"I told you it was re-injured," Natasha said, sitting back down by her with a roll of bandages in her hand.

"I don't think it was ever healed," Stella countered and looked at her mentor in some surprise as the adult motioned for her to turn to face her. She did and soon the woman was wrapping up her ankle in some sort of strange bandage. It was a bandage but was much firmer than any other type she had ever seen before.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. brand," Romanoff explained. "It's used for on-the-field sprains. We need every possible person on a mission, and sprains like this are considered paper cuts. You fight with them for the good of the team." Stella scoffed.

"That's one bad paper cut." Romanoff gave her a look before helping her up. This time she didn't even bother dodging the kick and just let her body go with the impact. Surprisingly, it hurt less just being limp, she realized and easily pushed herself back to her feet.

"The same thing applies to car accidents," Romanoff randomly said.

"Beg pardon?" Stella asked as she sidestepped and unsuccessfully tried to dodge another attack.

"When you get in an accident with drunk drivers, the drunks are fine because their bodies are limp on impact. Same thing just applied for you there." Another ringing blow to the head sent her staggering. "Come on, at least try," the adult admonished and something sparked in her at the degrading tone used. When Romanoff swung again, Stella grabbed her forearm and ducked under the swing from Natasha's other arm. The kick used to catch her unaware, which had succeeded so many times before, was blocked with one of Stella's own legs and the two fell over in a tangled mess, Romanoff landing on top of the girl.

"Hey, i thought you said no attacking a partner when she's down!" Stella protested as the assassin pinned her. Romanoff raised an eyebrow.

"We're both down. Still fair play." Glaring, Stella sharply slammed her head forward and the adult, startled, rolled away from her so she could get back to her feet.

"Now you're playing," Romanoff said approvingly, and the brief moment of partial sparring ended with Stella landing painfully hard on her back.

The routine continued throughout the day: hit, fall, get up, hit, fall, get up, get a hit in, get pummeled, fall, get up, hit, fall, get up, hit, fall, stop moving for a few minutes, repeat cycle. So it was a big relief to the girl when Romanoff helped her up one final time and told her that she was done for the day.

"Thanks," she winced and walked slowly out of the room, earning sympathetic glances from the other recruits and agents in the room. From the vents at the top of the room, Barton shook his head and dropped down in front of the locker room door just as his comrade was about to walk in.

"Seriously, Nat?" he asked, voice low. She rolled her eyes and walked by him, the man following her closely. "You went full out _assassin_ on her. She's only a kid, Nat. What were you thinking?" She ignored him and continued to the back door where she could go out into the main hallway. "Nat, listen to me!" he finally snapped, turning her around. "What are you trying to accomplish here? She's not _learning _anything, what's the point? She's basically your own personal _punching bag!_"

"For having watched the whole thing, Clint, you missed the whole point. She took the first step in learning something today, and it's a lesson I'm going to continue until I think she's got it," she said seriously, continuing past the other people in the room and leaving. Barton shook his head and turned to practically storm out of the room, heading straight for Fury's office.

"Director," he began, opening the door and speaking without hesitation. "What room is Coulson in?" Strangely, Fury looked very taken aback and stared at him for a full minute without responding.

"What do you mean?" he asked slowly, carefully.

"Where's Stella's room?" Barton replied, rephrasing his question. Fury immediately seemed to relax and his whole body loosened from its original tense position.

"Room 221. You know where that is." Clint nodded slowly.

"Right," he said skeptically, and walked out of the room, puzzlement and curiosity starting to build in him. Fury had been acting a bit strange recently, especially with the mention of the names Phil, Coulson, Phil Coulson, Agent Coulson, or anything close to their deceased friend's name. He was sure that Fury wasn't loosing it, which meant he was hiding something. He had to be sure to bring that up with Nat sometime soon. He was sure that she had noticed by now.

And that was how the archer had arrived at Stella's room, and why he was now seated beside her on the bed, putting a hand on hers to comfort her.

"Well, that's Romanoff. I can talk to her if you like about her taking it easier on you," he offered, but she immediately shook her head, wincing as it pulled at her neck muscles.

"No. Thanks for the offer, but I want to be able to handle this. I mean, I don't want to look weak or anything in front of her. If she wants to be hard on me, then I'll handle it." Clint smiled and stood up.

"I think you'll be fine here, Stella. You know how to take a hit and how to spring back. That's good." He gently patted her shoulder and walked to the door, opening it and closing it so softly she barely noticed he had left until she looked up from the floor and saw that she was alone. She sighed and flopped back down on her bed, closing her eyes and falling asleep immediately. When she would wake up in the morning, she would be so sore it hurt to stand up.

~'*'~

Fury was back in the hospital room, computer on his lap as he played back the recording from the "Gladiator Pit." He still couldn't believe the inherent skill that was before him, though it was raw and untrained. He finally closed the laptop and stared at the bed's occupant.

"Well, she's certainly got potential," he said simply. "She's going to do well. I can tell you that much right now. She's smart, fast, strong...she's like her dad all over again." It was beginning to disturb the Director that just talking to the man on the bed before him was getting to be so common for him, to feel normal. "I, uh...I had Romanoff begin training her. Do you think i should talk to her about her methods? Because she is beating up the girl a lot. It's not even really training." In the silence that followed, he could imagine the response the comatose one would make:

_It's Romanoff, she knows what she's doing. Don't question it, just let it be._

"I guess you're right on that account. I should just let it be." The door opened and Dr. Jones came back in and gave that sweet sympathetic smile of hers.

"I'm sure he can hear you, Director," she said softly. " I'm sure he can." He nodded in acknowledgement of the statement and moved to stand by the man's side, looking down at him.

"Any change?" he asked again, half-heartedly waiting for a response. As she had the last hundred times he had asked, she shook her head.

"I'm sorry director. I know that you were close friends."

"Is there anything you and your people can do?" he asked, the frustration of the situation building in him. She looked at him evenly and answered in that same patient tone she always used.

"As i said before, sir: no." He sighed and sat down heavily on the chair. "We can just keep him comfortable, keep taking tests, readings...not much else." No answer. "When are you going to tell the others?" He looked up at her sharply.

"I'm not going to. To bring back hope and shatter it as quickly as it appears is not fair. Not this time." She nodded, but seemed ready to press her point.

"Sir, they didn't get to say goodbye last time. They may want to be able to say goodbye _this_ time. He may want to, too." He nodded in consent of what she had said, but didn't say whether he would do it or not. "Just something to keep in mind, sir."

"I will," he said as he was walking out the door, and the doctor knew that he wouldn't. She looked back down at her patient and took the director's place beside him, gently holding his hand.

"I'm sure you'd want to hear your family again. And I don't mean your wife and child. I mean _all_ of them. Who knows, maybe you can see us. I can bring your family in here to see you, but you'll have to give me some sign that you know what i'm saying. That i'm here." There was no response, and the blue, fogged over eyes still stared. She sighed and walked to the door, stopping to look over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry Agent. I truly am." The heart rate monitor continued to beep in its slow, methodical pattern.

A funeral beat.


	9. Chapter 9

When her annoyingly loud, repetitive, high-pitched alarm clock began bleeping at her, Stella wanted nothing more than to roll over and burrow even deeper into her blankets and hit the stupid thing with her pillow. But then she would be _without_ a pillow and that wasn't okay. So she cracked open an eye and glared at the offending machine before she reached a hand out and slapped it a few times, fingers finally finding where the on/off button was. She didn't want to go to school...why was it so dark in here? And why was her alarm going off at four in the...right.

She was at S.H.I.E.L.D.

She sat up and immediately regretted it. Her whole body was one massive bruise and the slightest movement sent pain shooting through somewhere. After glimpsing a few black and blue blotches on her arms, she was loath to see what the rest of her looked like in that stupidly placed, full body mirror right on the door of the bathroom. Blinking a few times to clear her vision, she stood up, ran a hand through her hair, wincing, and stumbled over to the bathroom, closing her eyes to avoid seeing herself and opening the door to the small room. She walked with a painful limp to stop before the sink, hand uselessly patting the wall for the light switch. She flinched slightly at the sudden flash of light as she finally made contact with the small stick of plastic. However, seeing something dark in the corner of her eye, she jumped, proud of herself for not making some noise like an animal, and turned around angrily to look at the black figure standing behind her.

"IT'S NOT FIVE YET, CAN YOU NOT GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK?" she shouted and the woman raised an eyebrow.

"I was waiting to see how your injuries turned out," she answered, and Stella threw her arms up in the air and did an unsteady spin.

"Happy? Black and blue and green all over."

"Well, in order to be green all over you would have to be like Doctor Banner," she responded, borderline playful, and put a container of salve on the counter between them. "Use that. It'll help your bruises and inflammation."

"Thanks," she said taking it and opening it to reveal a sort of gross looking cream. It smelled like eucalyptus leaves too. _I hate that smell_, she thought to herself, crinkling her nose. _Oh well, beggars can't be choosers. _She turned around to thank her mentor again, but found that she was already gone, barely seeing the door close out of the corner of her eye.

"Damn, she's quick and quiet," she thought to herself and finished applying the salve to all of her injuries. When she had finished, and gotten dressed, she felt as though her whole body was one tense column and was loath to find out how she would do in the fighting today.

When she returned that night to her bed, most of her bruises were black and green, the salve having helped though her injuries were shifting away from the blue and purple. As he had the night before, Clint sat with her, talking, though it was much longer than yesterday's conversation, checking up with her. In the morning, it was a little harder to wake up and even harder the next day. However, either by just getting used to it, or by becoming too numb to feel anything anymore, the hits that made her wince, cringe, and groan no longer hurt. Whenever she fell over, she forced herself back up on her own, not requiring assistance. And it was the fifth day of pummeling that she managed to get up quickly or keep her balance, with no help from anyone. It became a routine of hit, fall, get up, hit, fall, get up, hit fall, get up, with nearly no hesitation between the falling and getting up phases. At the stroke of ten o'clock, Stella pushed herself up from the ground and shook Romanoff's hand as was custom. Instead of releasing her hand immediately though, Natasha nodded once at her.

"Congratulations. You passed the first test. We will start _actual_ training tomorrow." Romanoff released her hand and began walking away.

"Wait, what test?!" she called, running over to Natasha. The red head raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at her.

"The results are right before you. You can take a hit now and get up without any help. And it's not one of our agent's hits, it's one of mine. Now you won't get caught off guard when you're fighting because of a painful hit. Good night, Coulson," she ended, pitching her voice so that everyone in the room heard her name. Stella watched in slight surprise and turned to look around her. Everyone in the gym was looking at her, appraising her status it almost seemed. Natasha smiled and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Now they know who you are."

"Is that a good thing?" she asked, looking over her shoulder and Nat shrugged.

"Why don't you stick around to find out?" she asked in return and left her standing there. Sure enough, moments after Romanoff left, a tall, blonde haired, blue-eyed agent who had been by the punching bags walked over, looking around nervously.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help but hear..." he trailed off and looked at her, sad. "Wow, you really do look like him. Are you...Do you know...knew, sorry, knew...a Philip Coulson?"

"He was my dad," Stella said softly, looking down in embarrassment. When she looked back up, the sad expression on the man's face was gone, replaced with a smile.

"Well, it seems as though S.H.I.E.L.D. owns the lot of you," he laughed and clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Don't think there was a person on base that didn't know who he was and liked him."

"Ow," she muttered and the man immediately held his hands up in the air, expression on his face similar to one of a person who has touched a sacred relic and damaged it. "It's not you, it's just bruises from Romanoff." He nodded.

"Yeah, we all know about that. We can hear her beating you up in the locker room." Stella gave a bitter laugh and ran a hand through her hair.

"Well there was a purpose to it, so i think that I'm going to be feeling a lot better about getting kicked around now. I'm sorry I never got your name."

"I'm Thompson. Ian Thompson," he said holding out his hand.

"Stella. Stella Coulson," she responded and took his hand, shaking it firmly. "I'll be seeing you around I guess," the girl added as she turned to leave, wanting to get out of the stuffy room as fast as possible. It seemed that the room had suddenly grown really hot and she wanted to feel the coolness of the outside hallways. Just as she left though, the PA came on and everyone seemed to stop and look up, waiting for the announcement.

"Would Agent Coulson please report to Director Fury's office?" The surprise at the name buzzed in the hallway and Stella put her head down, walking as fast as she could to the nearest map that was on the wall. It was a mess of numbers, colors, and lines.

"How is this supposed to help?" she whispered to herself and suddenly she felt a hand tapping her shoulder. "Yes?" she asked, turning around.

"Figured you might need some help getting there. I could take you if you like," Thompson said and she smiled.

"Thanks, but I think after a little help I can get there on my own. Which room is Fury's?"

"That one," he said, pointing to it on the map. "Close by, won't take that long to get there."

"Thank you," Stella said and set off in the direction indicated on the map, repeating the turns and directions to herself. "Two halls down, take a left, four halls down. Two halls down, take a left, four halls down..." Her jog came to a stop before the big heavy door and she tentatively knocked.

"Coulson, just come in," came a tired voice and she entered, standing awkwardly before the director in her sweaty work out clothing and obvious bruises.

"I must apologize sir, I am not in the best appearance at the moment - "

"No matter, Agent, sit down," he said gesturing to the seat across from his desk and she slowly eased down into it, Fury noting the winces and grimaces as she finally settled. "You don't seem to be adjusting well to life here," he began and Stella immediately sat up straighter.

"Sir?"

"Your appearance is proof enough of that. Barton tells me that you feel angry at nights, and your...neighbors...report that you still have nightmares. Your friend has died practically in your arms and you've already had your first kill." Stella looked down and shifted uncomfortably, wincing again and favoring her bruised arms. "Is there anything that you want to say?" The girl before him seemed taken aback and was that...disappointment he saw?

"Sir, I did not know about the nightmares...if I have been screaming again at night, it has been without my knowledge. As for the bruises, well, there was an actual purpose to that and it's because I didn't realize it that I was angry." She hesitated and Fury nodded. "As for the...excitement that I have been undergoing...Let's just say it runs in the family. I really do want to be here though." The adult nodded and turned his computer screen to face her.

"For showing remarkable spryness and skill, you seemed to have lost your touch when working with Romanoff," he said simply and Stella frowned, leaning forward to squint at the screen.

"Sir, is that - "

"That is a recording of your...performance...in our 'Gladiator Pit'," he said and she looked up. "Judging by the expression on your face, I take it you don't remember it looking like this."

"No, definitely not. I thought i was just randomly hitting and kicking. This is like a...a - "

"Ballet of death," Fury interjected. "Now, _that_ is why we hired you. Why you were recruited. _Not_ for this," he said, gesturing to the massive bruises and lacerations that marked her body. "What changed? What is it that we can do to get this back?" Stella looked at the recording as Fury froze it and zoomed in to reveal her kicking in the knee of her fellow recruit, a dead, angry expression on her face and glinting in her eyes. "This is what we need from an assassin. And this is what you need to survive Romanoff, and why you're here."

"I don't know, sir," she answered. "I don't remember how to do any of this." Fury sat back in his seat and nodded.

"Well, go and rest easy Agent. I've ordered Romanoff to give you a day off. She's been beating you too hard."

"Yes sir," she answered and stood up slowly, walking out of the room into a suspiciously positioned group of agents. One was by the water fountain, two others were reading a bulletin, and an additional three looked like they were caught with their hands in a cookie jar. And all of them were looking at her.

"Something wrong?" a voice asked and they all immediately scampered off, some pushing their way past others to get away.

"Agents really are idiots some times," Barton said from above her and she smiled, turning to look at the obscured adult behind the ventilation screen as it opened. "Good thing that they're scared of me." He smiled and put an arm around Stella's shoulders leading her away from her quarters.

"Look, Barton, I'm tired okay? I really just want to collapse on my bed and sleep." Barton smiled.

"Don't we all? I just want to show you something, okay? Just something quick. It'll probably make you feel a bit more...at peace, if you know what I mean."

"Barton, am I going to regret this?" she asked seriously as he led her to a room with massive sliding glass doors emblazoned with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo. "What is this place?" The walls were solid white as were the floor and ceiling. At the center of the room there was a strange circle on the floor and a control panel beside it. "Barton...what is this?"

"It's a sort of obituary storage center. Keep your voice down in here: it's more respectful," he whispered and put his hand on the control panel.

"Agent Clint Barton identified," the computer said.

"Coulson, Philip J." Stella looked around at him and gave him a guarded expression. A low electronic hum sounded and a holographic image of the agent was projected above the circle on the ground. Stella actually jumped and took a step back into Barton at the realistic appearance of the image. Had the connection not been perfect and therefore made the projection vanish for split seconds sporadically throughout the presentation, she would have reached out and tried to touch him. In fact, she realized that her arm was half way extended and she quickly drew it back as the computer began speaking.

"Agent Coulson, Philip J. Married, one daughter. Age at time of death, fifty. Agent Coulson was recruited at a young age..." Stella watched in silent and somberly respectful, yet sad, wonder as the holographic image changed according to what the automated female computer voice said (which she was filtering out) and actually smiled when she saw her father "in action" as some would say. "Cause of death, fatal injury inflicted by Loki Laufeyson in an endeavor to prevent the war criminal from escaping. Highly decorated agent - " Stella stopped smiling and her tears that had been pricking her eyes slowly fell, and she felt Barton's arm go around her shoulders again in comfort. She quickly swiped at her eyes. "One enclosed message under voice lock of Stella Coulson." She immediately looked up and Barton looked down at her.

"Do you want to hear it?" he asked and she shook her head.

"No, I'm...I'm not ready for that quite yet," she said unsteadily and looked at the image of her father before her again. All serious and focused. Just as he had been his whole life when it came to work. "I - I'm just waiting for him to pop up out of no where, you know," she said, a sad, almost disappointedly, angry smile breaking through. "Waiting for him to show up, saying it was all just part of the plan, a big...practical joke. That he never...that he didn't..." Next thing she knew she was crying softly and steadily into Barton's shoulder and the man gently rocked her back and forth. "I just want my dad home. I just want him home..." she whispered, voice thick and Barton nodded, putting his chin on her head. "But i know he's not coming back and I wish he would. I wish he _could_. I wish..."

"I know Stella. We all wish for the same thing," he said not unkindly. "Sometimes though we have to let go of dreams because they can consume us. Make us forget to live our own lives. Roll with the punches life delivers, and keep on going." Stella gave a bitter laugh.

"Well, I've certainly learned how to do that," she muttered and turned to leave the room.

"Do you feel any better?" Barton asked and she turned around to look at him. She shrugged.

"I don't know. He was...a big part of my life, i don't know if I can just shut him out like that." Barton nodded.

"Well, if you ever feel the need to see him again...you know that this place exists. Just don't forget that this is a holographic image. This isn't your dad, this is a series of computer codes. Don't let it kill you." She nodded and left, walking to her room, unlocking the door, going in, and freezing. Her mind, which had been turning over several items of emotional concern, had an overload.

"Merry Christmas, Stel - oh my _god, what happened?!_"

"...Mom?" Stella asked, dazed, as her mother tackled her in a fierce hug. "What are you doing here?"

"Fury called me in. Told me that you could use a family member right now. So this is where your father vanished to...Oh, I brought your some of your belongings here, favorite books, music, photo albums, et cetera. But what happened, Stel? You're completely beaten up!"

"Pre training," her daughter answered, still trying to wrap her head around what was going on. "Mom, I...I don't know what to say."

"Well why don't you start off from the beginning. What's happened since you left?" Stella sat beside her mom on the bed.

"Um, before I go through..._that_...can I take a shower first? I want to just get clean first. I've been...working...since five this morning."

"Of course, sweetheart. I'll just look around here for a bit." Stella smiled, grabbed the S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform from where it was draped on her desk chair and vanished into the bathroom only to fall flat on her back, winded, and several feet away from the door. "STELLA!"

"I'm good, mom. This is pretty routine," the girl wheezed and stood up, rolling to the side to dodge an attack from Romanoff as the woman launched at her, the adult using her missed momentum to roll back to her feet.

"Greetings, Mrs. Coulson. I'm sorry for interrupting your evening together, but this is part of our training."

"I thought training was done at ten," Stella grumbled, closing the door, and turning on the water.

"What exactly are you doing to my daughter?" Lynne growled, a veritable angry mother bear. Romanoff raised an eyebrow.

"When your daughter first arrived here, she had a rather eventful first day: everyone she was testing with was murdered and she proceeded to kill the murderer. Quite skillfully too, I might add. She was good, but had no training. If someone hit her, she would loose her concentration. So, I have spent the last week simply beating her up. Now, she can take a hit and get up without hesitation. That is essential for everyone who works for S.H.I.E.L.D." Lynne seemed to be at a loss for words.

"What do you mean murdered and killed?" she asked in disbelief and turned around as the door opened, Stella walking out, showered and in her uniform. "Since when did you take showers so fast?"

"Since I came here," she answered, sitting on the bed. "Natasha, you want to stay?" The woman shook her head.

"The Director wants to talk to me and then I have a meeting arranged with someone else for tonight. Thank you for the offer though." With that she left the room and Lynne shook her head.

"I don't like that woman," she muttered and Stella shook her head.

"Mom, you just need to get to know her. She's a woman with great intentions, she just...has weird ways of showing it." Lynne scoffed and nodded.

"I'm beginning to notice that. Stella, are you happy here?" she asked hesitantly and Stella nodded. "Really and truly?"

"I am, mom."

"Even with this killing she told me about?" Stella stopped and looked at her mom in surprise.

"Mom, that wasn't...it was just..."

"Stella, tell me what happened. Tell me everything." Stella looked up from where their hands were joined and into her mother's eyes and began talking.

~'*'~

"Fury wants me to be an assassin, mom," she finished. "Not an agent. And everything that has happened to me so far has been pointing me in that direction." Lynne shook her head and wrapped her arms around her daughter, hugging her tightly.

"Why did you want to choose this life, Stella?" she whispered, pulling away. "Assassins don't last long in this line of work."

"If they're trained by the average Joe, no they don't. But I'm trained by the Black Widow. I should last pretty long," Stella protested and her mom nodded. "Mom. Romanoff made a promise to me. She promised that she would push me as hard as she could and do whatever it took to make me the equivalent of her replacement. I made her promise that, you know why?" Lynne looked at her, and the daughter took the silence as a desire for an answer. "Because I wanted to be able to walk home to you once this was all done. Because I wanted to know that I could stay safe, so I couldn't hurt you anymore. So you would never have to get a condolence letter again."

Lynne smiled and reached out to carefully brush her daughter's hair back behind her ear.

"You would do that," she said mockingly admonishing her. "Well, let's put work aside and just talk. I brought your iPod for you. I know you love music...Stella, have you ever tried fighting with music playing?"

"Why would I do that?" she asked, moving over to the side counter in her room and making a pot of hot water for some tea.

"Well, you ran so much faster, and so much better when you had your earphones in. Maybe that would work with your fighting too." Stella thought for a moment and shook her head.

"No I think it may be something else. Something more...primal. That and listening to an iPod when you're trying not to get shot won't work so well."

"Primal?" Lynne asked, shocked. "Stella - okay, drop work! You're as bad as your father!" she laughed and Stella smiled at her folded hands, moving back to recline on the bed. "Old May is moving out."

"Why?" Stella asked, sitting up. "She seemed happy here."

"Oh well, you know. New York has its appeals," Lynne admitted. "Your father and I thought about moving there more than once, but we decided that it wasn't under the radar enough. S.H.I.E.L.D. would find out so quickly he wouldn't have had time to knock on our door."

"How's the school doing after...Heimlich?" Stella asked, taking a sip of her tea, offering her mother a mug.

"Thank you...Well, it could be better. The school's security has cracked down and people are being interrogated for anything they know that might help. they aren't letting this case lie, I can tell you that. A girl ran away from home too. One of the cheer leaders, but I forgot her name."

"Casey?" Stella asked, pulling the name from her memory. Lynne nodded.

"Yeah. Poor girl had self-esteem issues and a poor home life. Guess it was only a matter of time before she left. Did you know her?"

"Briefly. You could say she sympathized with me at times," Stella answered vaguely and sighed. "Well I hope they find her. She has a flare for the dramatic, but from what I saw of her, she isn't resourceful." Lynne nodded.

"Well, happier notes: your grandmother is going to be visiting us next Christmas from Omaha. I hope you'll be available then." Stella narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"_Your _mom...or _dad's_ mom?" Both began laughing and Lynne shook her head.

"_My_ mom. Heavens, I'd make _sure_ S.H.I.E.L.D. had you occupied if _that_ old bat was coming."

"She's just special," Stella protested, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

"EXTRA special...well, that explains where Phil got his crazy from," Lynne conceded and they broke down in laughter again.

Fury watched from his small security camera and nodded.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" a cool voice asked and the man looked up to see Romanoff standing there, almost menacingly.

"Romanoff, come in and sit down. We need to talk."

"I'd prefer to be standing," she responded evenly. Fury gave her a hard look.

"I've called you here to talk about your training program for Coulson." She looked at him, aggravation clearly showing in her gaze. "This isn't training, Romanoff. What you see everyone else doing in that room? That's training. I understand pushing her a little bit, but not hurling her around the room until she's black and blue. You need to remember that she is a feeling human being with no special...attributes...that you have."

"Sir, my methods may seem...archaic...to you, but I assure you that they have a purpose. In fact, their purpose has already been served," she responded icily.

"And what purpose is that?"

"I can hit her with my hardest punch that don't break bones or cause internal bleeding and she will get right back up for more. That was the purpose of all of this. Now I would appreciate it if you would allow me to continue training her the way I see fit. You want an assassin, I'll make her that. You want to make her an agent, like her father, give her to one of the other normal people you have working here."

"You're starting to get out of line, agent," Fury said standing to tower above her.

"Yeah and I'm starting to have questions. I'm a spy for a reason, and I can see when people are hiding something. And you have guilt written all over you."

"That is beside the point right now, Agent - "

"What aren't you telling the base? What aren't you telling command?"

"We need to be talking about Coulson!" he ordered, trying to change the course of the conversation.

"Yes," she agreed, voice hard. "We do. What are you hiding?"

"Agent Romanoff, leave this room immediately!" Fury nearly shouted and after giving him a long, calculating look, Romanoff bowed shallowly and stiffly before turning to stalk out of the room. Her temper was flaring higher than normal and everyone she walked by in the halls immediately got as close to the walls as possible to avoid her.

"Someone isn't happy," Barton said as he saw she stormed into his quarters. "Take it you're not going to be hungry?" he asked, gesturing to the small table in the corner of the room with candles and plates of food set out. She looked over at it and was tempted to flip the table but stopped, listening to the soft music playing in the room.

"Moonlight Serenata. You still remember after all these years how to get me to calm down," she said bitterly amused and let Clint give her a hug that wasn't too tight or too loose.

"So what happened?"

"Fury shouted at me for my training methods. He doesn't get it though." Clint made a noise of assent and moved over to pick something off the floor and put it on his dresser. "He's hiding something, Clint. I confronted him about it in...a less than tactful way," she answered and let her close friend lead her over to the "dinner table."

"Well, I'm sure you'll get to the bottom of it, you always do. Look before you say anything," Clint added, noting her dubious glance, "I know you don't like to eat heavier meals when you're training, but tonight it looked like you needed something a bit more filling than those battle rations you eat." As they sat down, he gave her a playfully serious look. "You know those are for _battle_ right?" She gave him a look and stabbed her fork into the pasta. "Not going to say anything?" he asked, provokingly.

"Who told you this was my favorite food?" she finally asked and Barton smiled, eating his own serving.

"Phil," he answered through a mouthful of food and she looked at him in borderline disgust. "What? My table manners lacking?"

"Unsurprisingly, yes. Where were you raised, in a barn?"

"Circus," he corrected, pointing at her with his fork and she had to smirk down at her lap at the ready, playful response. "Ah, I saw that." Immediately, she tried to force her smile away and looked up at him dead pan, only to smile again when she saw the grin on his face. "What do you know," he mused, sitting back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. "The Widow has a heart."

"You know I do, Clint," she answered softly and they both went back to eating. "Stel has the day off tomorrow. I'm going to find out what Fury's hiding. Orders or not." Clint swallowed the mouthful of pasta in his mouth and looked at her.

"Well then. Can I help?"

"I need a distraction," she said, looking at him carefully. "And a good eyeball."

"Hey, don't bring that up!"

"You asked," she shrugged and laid out her plan.


	10. Chapter 10

Stella took in a deep breath and sat up slowly in her bed and looked around herself. The room was neat and tidy and some familiar objects adorned the once bare shelves on the wall across from her. Her iPod was plugged into the wall and she couldn't help but smile as she saw the final touch to the room that clearly said that this was her mother's final touch before the adult had left the night before. She smiled and swung herself out of bed, walking over to the small stool in the corner of the room:

A small plate of cookies.

Stella sighed and pulled back the ceran-wrap, pulling out one of the cookies, absentmindedly nibbling at it as she walked over to her iPod, scrolling through the music.

"Oh what the hell," she muttered and clicked on the title. "Your fault that I listen to this stuff, dad," she muttered as she walked into her bathroom to start cleaning up in there. Blood splotches on the floor and counters were not appealing to anyone.

_Launching loony thoughts into the bending of your mind. Reach for something higher but a mountain's all you find!_

~'*'~

Romanoff was perched up in the ventilation shaft, watching the passing people, though her eyes were fixated on the door to Fury's office. He hadn't left there since he entered this morning, and according to her observations over the past few weeks, he should be leaving any moment. At that exact thought, the door opened and Fury, looking even more worn than he had been the last few times she had seen him, began walking down the hall, suspiciously looking about himself before typing in a code. The Black Widow tapped a few times on her mic in her ear. Barton stepped out of his quarters with a very questionable stagger in his step.

"'Ello, Director," he slurred and Fury gave him a very worried, dubious look.

"Agent," he said and Clint gave a very sloppy salute. "Something wrong?"

"Never...challenge a Russian to a drinking contest," he proclaimed loudly, drawing looks from throughout the hallway. He did a strange about face and then raised a hand in thought. "Wasn't really a drinking contest though...more of a...prolonged, shared salute." He stopped and swallowed, turning back to face Fury. Even Romanoff was momentarily fooled by his performance and nearly forgot to glance down at the small screen in her hands that held the passcode that her superior had been typing in. 12489A6PJC. All it was waiting for was an enter. A send.

"You are drunk, agent," Fury said with severity. "Report back to your quarters until you are called for or until you can get a grip." Clint gave a sad smile and began in the direction of his room.

"Not gonna ask what we drank to?" he asked, voice tripping over itself, turning around to face his superior again. Romanoff looked through the camera on the inside of Clint's collar: Fury had added more numbers and letters. 007TESS. Tess. Tesseract. Romanoff felt a hot anger burn into her but pushed it aside. Fury had hit enter. That was the password then. 12489A6PJC007TESS. She tapped a few more times on her mic and Clint gave an exaggerated, theatrical shrug.

"Doesn' matter anymore. All gone. Even the whiskey we were drinking. Whiskey and rye. _Bye, bye Miss American Pie. Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry..._" the archer began singing, still with that burr of drunken stupor in his voice, as he walked down the hall, tapping on the walls in rhythm with the song. "THEM GOOD OL' BOYS WERE DRINKING WHISKEY AND RYE SINGING THIS'LL BE THE DAY THAT I DIE!" People were balking from him in the halls, appalled and worried for their safety as he violently gesticulated and stumbled about. "SUPPOSED TO SING THAT AT HIS FUNERAL, YOU KNOW, I PROMISED HIM! WE DRANK TO HIM!" Clint shouted and Fury's expression grew stony. "BYE-BYE, MISS AMERICAN PIE. DROVE MY CHEVY TO THE LEVEE BUT THE LEVEE WAS DRY!"

~'*'~

"I have wasted so much time!" Stella sang and was startled out of her music as she heard a rather nice voice outside singing a familiar song.

"So, bye-bye Miss American Pie...drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry..." She turned off her music and walked over to her door and opened it to have Barton fall face first into her.

"WHOA! Agent Barton are you...you're drunk," she trailed off and Clint pushed himself to his feet and staggered farther into her room, still gesticulating wildly.

"Shouldn't have done it, shouldn't have hesitated. Should have ran. Should have killed myself," he muttered and Stella immediately closed the door.

"Hey, Clint. What's going on here?" she asked softly, leading him over to sit on the bed. "Just sit there. What's up? Do you want anything?"

"I was faking, Coulson. Or, was suppos'd to," he hiccuped and ground the heels of his hands into his forehead. "I couldn't help it. Getting drunk suddenly seemed like a good idea."

"Why were you faking?" she asked, bringing him some water and a damp towel.

"Tasha thinks that she's onto something that Fury's hiding. She needed a distraction. And an eyeball. No, no...no eyeballs, no distractions," he whispered and slammed his forehead a couple times on his hands. He gave a bitter laugh and looked up. "I"m not a mean drunk, you don't have to look so scared." Stella shook herself out of her paranoid mind set and gave a smile.

"Not scared. Just...disconcerted."

"Huh. I guess the unflappable me being drunk and bemoaning the killing of one of his best friends is a bit disconcerting. PHIL, DAMN YOU!" he suddenly shouted and stood up violently. "WHY'D YOU DO IT?!" Stella stopped mid word and closed her mouth. This torn up, degrading shouting was familiar. Unfortunately so.

"I ask him that every night," she whispered and Clint looked up from where he had fallen on his knees, staring at his hands.

"But I led the strike. I'm the reason he's dead." Stella sat down beside him and the two of them leaned against the side of her bed.

"Loki is the only one to blame. If I could put a shotgun bullet between his eyes, I would sleep much better at night," Stella said gently, but with a dangerous steely flame in her eyes and voice as she said the last sentence. "It's not your fault and never say it is. I lost enough tears and hours of my life screaming those same words at my wall. It never made me feel any better." Clint nodded and pulled a face. "You okay?"

In response, he pushed himself to his feet and staggered off to the bathroom from where the ungodly sound of vomiting was heard.

"Now I am," came Clint's weak voice. "What the hell did Nat put in her vodka?"

"She's a Russian assassin, what do you think she put in her vodka?" Stella asked, reentering with the towel and glass of water. "You might want to just lay down and sleep off your hangover."

"Since when does an underage know so much about drinking?" he asked as he flopped down on her bed. She looked down and shrugged.

"Dad's death hit mum pretty hard. I got good at this for a few weeks. Then she just snapped out of it. Played out her sorrows on the cello instead of in the bottle." Clint nodded and sighed.

"I hope Nat got what she needed."

~'*'~

Romanoff dropped down into the security office, the agent monitoring the camera's completely oblivious to the fact that she was in the same room as him. She raised a fist and slammed it forward into his side and with a brief cry of pain, he fell to the ground, downed by her taser. She quickly dumped him unceremoniously on the ground and took his seat, typing rapidly. She had to follow him. The cameras swiveled around, locking on Fury as he walked down halls and stopped at doors. Quickly hitting a few keys, she zoomed in on the key pads, recording the pass codes he used. He was slipping, she noted. He would normally be so much more cautious about something like this. She repeated the procedure and saw that he entered a medical facility. Strange...she thought to herself and set all the cameras back to their normal position, numbers and sequences running through her head. It was time to lay these ghosts of thoughts, theories, and lies to rest.

~'*'~

Fury walked into the darkened room, noting the worried Jones beside the patient.

"How is he?"

"This time I have an update for you, but it isn't good. He just fell into a deeper coma." Fury came to a stop beside her and the blonde looked up at him. "He's worse. Much worse than he was before."

"What's worse than already being in a coma and falling farther into one?" he asked tersely.

"Well, his heart is still strong sir, we're surprised at that. Stark tech apparently still works up to its claims. Does he know - "

"No," he answered quickly. "I don't want any of them to know. What's worse about him?"

"Well, just look at him sir. He's paler, the malnutrition is higher - "

"How, you're intravenously giving him what he needs," the tall man accused and she looked at him seriously.

"That's the strange part. His body dropped several degrees in the severity of his condition. He needed more nutrition than before, which makes no sense. Unless he's trying to get better and we're just not noticing it. There's no way for him to be using this much nutrition unless it's just to stay alive. If that's the case, then he's still in there somewhere." Fury shook his head.

"If he was in there I would know. He would have made a sign of some sort."

"Sir, he's way gone, I don't know if - "

"He would have," Fury interrupted, almost angry. "I know him. He would have let us know." He paused in thought, looking down at the still form. "What if it isn't him keeping him alive? What if it's something else?"

"You mean, what if the dips in his condition are him...letting go, and something else is pulling him back together?"

"You did say that the Tesseract was a possible component in this. And as far as we can tell, that thing is virtually a living organism."

"I said it was improbable, but yes," the doctor corrected. "Sir, as of right now, there is nothing good coming of keeping him alive. I think you should consider - "

"Not an option."

"Sir, we can't keep him alive forever! We could be causing him agony right now keeping him alive, and we wouldn't even know it! We're going to need to make the right decision for this patient, whether you like it or not. If you were him, would you want to be stuck in who knows where. You have to let him go sir. Just think about it." She took a few notes and walked out, leaving them alone.

Fury walked over to the bedside and picked up the thin, bony hand in his and looked down at the gaunt face, still staring eyes. He leaned into the man's line of vision and took in a shaky breath.

"If you can hear me or see me, do anything. Make your eye twitch or something. Do anything to let me know you're still in there." No movement at all, no acknowledgement, not the slightest muscle movement. "We'll get you out of this. I promise. And...and everything will go back to normal. I promise. We'll fix everything. We'll get rid of all of the hate that's going around here about what happened to you, we'll fix it all. Just get your ass back in the world of the living. You get that? God damn it, just one sign. One sign." Defeated, the Director took a few steps back and sat in the chair, back to the door and hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his clasped hands. Almost as if he were in prayer.

~'*'~

Romanoff stormed forward, eyes practically glowing as she proceeded forward with an air of almost vindictive nature. She came up before the first door and entered the first code.

12489A6PJC007TESS

The door lock beeped and turned green and she walked in, pushing by the startled medical intern who was about to leave.

"Uh, excuse me, I don't think you're supposed to be in here!" he called, but she didn't respond. "Hey! Dr. Jones, this is Intern ICU nurse Brand, Agent Romanoff just broke in."

"Change all the codes," the assassin heard a female voice order and she started running. She had to get there before the others were changed.

1009GHn87Rt95VictorVictor2

_Beep. Ding._

She continued running, turning corners, sprinting right into a security squad.

"Stop right there or we'll shoot!" came one panicked, small voice and she gave a mirthless smirk.

Moments later she was stepping between a tangle of arms and legs with complete ease and an alarm was going off in the corridors, probably alerting the rest of the unit of her presence. Once she was clear, she began running again, meeting no resistance at all. The next four codes and four stops, down flights of stairs and through several narrow hallways, were easy.

987000SINDUSTRY00148

09238AVENGERS887B9823001

09834BWPROGRAM82555552100000 

AlphaClearance00000

The last door hissed open and she found herself standing before a large assortment of nurses, doctors, and security guards.

"Agent Romanoff, I'm Doctor Jones. We understand that - " a shorter, blonde doctor said, stepping forward, but Romanoff held up a hand to stop her.

"I'm here for one thing and one thing only," she said simply, pushing by the woman rather roughly.

"Wait, stop! You aren't allowed back there!" Jones shouted and pressed an intercom on the wall.

In the room, Fury sighed. He knew what was happening. Had known since the incident with Barton in the hall. Jones had been right: it had only been a matter of time before they connected the dots.

"Sir, Agent Romanoff is approaching you. She doesn't seem to be in the mood for anymore lies."

"Understood," he said lowly and didn't bother moving. The game of lies, of dodging shadows was over. Best just wait for his doom to come to him. Especially if it came in the form of a PO'd assassin.

The silence stretched on, and in the drone of nothingness, he thought he would have heard the door open and close. But he didn't.

~'*'~

Romanoff softly opened the door and stepped in, taking care not to make a single sound as she entered and closed the door behind her. The image before her made her gut churn in the most unpleasant way and the heavy severity that the air was saturated with made her feel like joining the Director in his defeated posture by the side of the bed. The bed. Her anger flared sky high again.

"How long," she asked, though it was more of a statement that trembled with the intensity of her anger and sadness and betrayal. Fury didn't make any move to respond to her, just stared straight at the deteriorating, decrepit form on the bed. "How long were you going to hide him?" Still no answer. And then her anger snapped. Fury felt himself grabbed violently from behind and slammed against the wall, an angry face close to his.

"HOW LONG?!" she shouted. "HOW LONG WAS HE GOING TO SIT IN HERE WITHOUT US KNOWING?" At this point, Fury broke too.

"I never was going to tell you," he growled and she tightened her grip.

"HOW COULD YOU? HOW COULD YOU KEEP HIM LOCKED AWAY LIKE THIS?!"

"ROMANOFF, LOOK AT HIM!" Fury shouted, seeing as it was the only language she was understanding right now. "LOOK AT HIM! THAT'S NOT HIM, NATASHA! THAT'S NOT HIM!" Both of them fell into a dead silence filled with heavy breathing and Romanoff looked close to tears. "I don't know what _that_ is. But _that's_ not the man you and I knew." She released her death grip and backed away, looking over at the skeleton of her mentor.

"Can - " she whispered, voice trembling.

"We don't know," he answered. "We don't anything. We don't know if he can see us, if he can hear us. We don't know what's killing him, we don't know what's keeping him alive. That's why I wasn't going to tell you. I don't know if he'll even be here tomorrow." Romanoff looked broken, far from the fighting tiger that had barged in.

"Has he said..."

"Nothing. He's been like that for months. Ever since Loki stabbed him." She walked over to the bed and sat carefully on the mattress beside him.

"When will you tell the others?" she asked softly, as though out of deference.

"I'm won't. There is nothing left to see." Her head whipped around to face him.

"You have to," she protested. Fury shook his head.

"I can't. To have lied this long...they've already said goodbye, agent. They've put themselves to rest and they've put Phil to rest - "

"They wanted to say goodbye in person," she interrupted. "They all did. Tony's still beating himself up about it. So's Rogers. And Thor. And Clint as sure as hell is. If you'd allow them to say goodbye...I know I'd want to."

"Phil wouldn't want people to see him like this," Fury protested weakly and that was when Romanoff knew she'd won. She shook her head.

"You're wrong. He'd want people to see him like this. He's used to seeing all of us at our worst, it's about time we saw him at his. Make us appreciate what we have when we have it. He'd want us to see him if he...if he didn't..." She put a hand over her mouth and bowed her head, shoulders trembling as she tried to suppress her tears. "If he didn't wake up tomorrow, but could hear us, he'd want to know his team was with him," she said in a rush of words that tumbled over each other. Coupled with the tears it was like a babbling river. Fury walked up to her and put a hand on her shoulder, relieved when she pulled herself together in an instant. "Are you going to tell his daughter?"

"Stella can't know. Not right now," he responded immediately. "His wife can't either. I know it sounds heartless, but...that's the way of things right now. He can't be revealed immediately. You and Barton are okay for now, but - "

"I understand. I'll make plans for the others coming in."

"Do you want a moment with him?" he asked, moving towards the door.

"Yes please," she answered and waited for the door to click shut. She reached out to put a hand on her friend's hand, but hesitated, palm hovering above his. She gently grabbed it and leaned forward to gently place a kiss on his forehead. It was cold and clammy, a feeling that made her feel sick. She sat by his side with his hand in hers for a long time.

~'*'~

"He going to be okay?" came a sudden voice and Stella jumped, turning around to see Romanoff standing there in the doorway.

"Uh, yeah. Just a hangover, nothing I can't handle," she responded and gave a smile. "He's been drinking water and throwing up basically all of your vodka - "

"Hangover?" the assassin asked, taken aback. "Barton!" she snapped and Clint's eyes opened and he quickly sat up, blinking rapidly.

"What?" he asked, rubbing his sore eyes. "What'd I do, what'd I miss?"

"You were supposed to fake it," she said accusingly. "And _not_ drink all my vodka in the process. I said enough to make it convincing."

"Well, I figured we needed to make it as foolproof as possible. And I thought it was pretty convincing. It work?" he asked in an aside. She nodded, grave.

"It worked." Clint nodded and stood up.

"Well, glad it did. I wouldn't have wanted to have this bloody headache for nothing," he joked and walked out the door without a second glance.

"You're welcome?" Stella asked, play affronted and Romanoff smirked.

"He's never really been one for saying thanks unless it was necessary or fit the mood," she explained. Then, she too turned to depart. But before she did, she reached out and put a hand on the girl's shoulder, squeezing gently.

"You're pretty strong, Coulson. Keep that strength up and you might just survive this. You're like you dad. You just fight in more ways than we can really understand. Keep that up." Stella felt a blush creeping up in her cheeks and she nodded, looking down.

"Thanks."

"And for that," Romanoff stated in a way that was a warning and Stella's hands flew to intercept the forearm that was swinging for her chest to knock her over. Natasha raised an eyebrow in surprise as her hard swing was stopped by an iron grip right in front of her intended target. "You're getting faster."

"Thanks Romanoff," she said again that shy person and Romanoff smiled again at her. The second time in the space of a few minutes that she full on smiled at the girl. Something was up.

"Just call me Tasha. Your dad did," the woman offered, but Stella shook her head.

"You're my mentor, and well, I'm not my dad. I think for now, I should still call you Agent Romanoff." Said agent shrugged.

"Fine by me, but it'll get to be a mouthful, trust me," she warned and left the room, immediately beelining for Barton who was waiting farther down the hall.

"How is he?" he asked softly and Romanoff didn't answer until she pulled him into her room.

"He's...he's sick, Clint. He's really, really sick," she said simply and Clint swore softly.

"But he's alive?" he asked, hopeful. She shook her head.

"Not really. He breaths and his heart beats but...Clint, don't make me describe it. This is Phil we're talking about and he's...he's just sick." She allowed Clint to pull her into a hug and closed her eyes. "Really sick."

~'*'~

Stella opened her door and walked down the hallway, looking around almost fearfully. This was the first time that she was leaving her room on her won and her feet lead her to the memorial room. It was strange, she thought, as she stood there in the pristine white room. She felt as though she was in the presence of the dead, although they were all simply digital information, binary and technical stuff like that. She copied what she had seen Barton do and asked for one name.

"Veronica Rodriguez. Retired due to accident in service as a junior agent."

"Voice lock of Stella Coulson recognized," the computer said and the holographic image flickered into existence before her. "Say continue to play the message."

Message. How many of the dead had messages for her? Feeling sick and trapped, Stella stammered out some order to end the program and ran out of the room, blending into the flow of agents in the hall. She needed to run. To escape.

Run on a circular track, forever and ever. Just run.

And she did.


	11. Chapter 11

She couldn't feel anything. Her legs were moving faster than they ever had before and her arms were pumping back and forth with equal vigor. She needed to run. To get away. Seconds, then minutes, ticked by as she ran through the halls, pushing through people, knocking them off balance. She didn't know if the base had a running track, and she couldn't stop for directions. To stop now would be disastrous for her. To stop would allow her monsters and horrors to catch up and she couldn't do that. She needed to escape.

"Hey, watch it!" she heard someone shout after her as she pushed them off balance accidentally. She didn't respond, didn't acknowledge their complaint, and vanished around the corner. She felt as though she was getting no where. The halls all seemed the same, all filled with milling suits. She needed to get away. Somehow. Five minutes passed into thirty minutes, forty-five minutes, an hour. She was still running, passing by the same faces, the same doors, the same rooms. Running liked a trapped animal in circles.

"Stella!" a voice called after her at one point and she ignored it. She couldn't stop, she reminded herself. When she heard footsteps following her at the same pace she looked over her shoulder to see Agent Thompson closing in on her, trying to get her attention. Startled and negatively impacted by the pursuit, she increased her speed. "HEY, COULSON!" She made the mistake of looking over her shoulder again and, at that point, someone who was probably done with her running around stuck their foot out, catching her shins so that she fell face first on the ground. Her hearing was ringing with a high pitched noise and she pushed herself up off the ground, turning to stare the offending agent in the face. And stopped herself from right hooking her just in time.

"You've been running for an hour and a half. Cool off," Romanoff ordered and the girl shook her head furtively.

"I can't," she protested, something strange in her throat. "I can't stop. If I stop it all comes back to me - "

"Hey, you okay?" a voice asked and Thompson walked over, panting. "You run fast," he complimented her but his words fell on deaf ears. "You okay?" he repeated and Romanoff shook her head.

"We'll get back to you Thompson. I need to speak with her alone right now." Thompson nodded and lightly punched Stella's arm as he walked on his way.

"Hey, mess in an hour and a half? I have some friends I want to introduce you to." Stella nodded to him and then looked at the ground, fighting that sensation in her throat and a monster tearing up the inside of her chest.

"Thanks, I uh, I'll be there," she responded, noting that he was still waiting for an answer.

"Swell," he answered, beaming, and walked off. Stella frowned in puzzlement and turned to face her mentor.

"Swell? Who says swell anymore?" Romanoff smirked and put an arm around her shoulders, leading her back down the hall to strange looks.

"Thompson is a strange young man. I think it's good that you're working on establishing a friendship with him," she admitted and The younger woman nodded in return.

"Where are we going?"

"Back to your quarters. Don't worry, I just want to talk to you about what's going on."

_Joy,_ Stella thought bitterly to herself. _I'm going to have a deep psychological session with Agent Romanoff, a recognized assassin and spy. Fun. _

~'*'~

"Sit down on your bed. You're pretty dehydrated and you're about ready to fall over," the assassin said bluntly and the girl did as ordered, sitting up against the pillows on her bed. Romanoff vanished into the bathroom and returned with a damp towel and glass of water. They proceeded in dead silence as the girl shakily drank the water and Romanoff gently laid the towel across the back of her neck.

"You've got a temperature going, Stella. Have you been feeling sick at all?" The girl looked up, surprised.

"No, I haven't. I'm fine though, at least I feel fine..." Romanoff sighed and put the rag down. "What?"

"You've worked yourself into the ground. What is wrong?" She hesitated before answering the assassin's question.

"I looked up Rodriguez in the database," she finally said, voice soft. "There was a message under my voice lock." The Black Widow didn't say anything. "Why do the dead all have messages for me?! After everything that's happened to me, I'm just getting overwhelmed! Every night, I hear that scream! Every night I hear that stab! Every night I see everything with a clarity that people shouldn't be allowed to dream in! I don't want to keep remembering! I don't want to keep feeling everything!" This time she did answer.

"Stella, listen to me. Those two people were very close to you, even though you didn't really know Rodriguez. They believed in you and that is why they left those messages. You can't let your imagination run away with you. And that pain that you feel, that anger, that confusion, that fear...you need to feel that Stella. That is what keeps you checked into reality, that's what keeps you grounded. I know you hate it - we all hate it when we feel it - but it's up to you to figure out how to coexist with that pain because it isn't going anywhere for a really long time."

"I just feel like there is something important, something big that I'm missing," she protested and Nat sighed.

"Look, you need to calm down. You've just been thrown into a world so complex and so mysterious I think it's been getting to your head. Now, as your mentor and as your friend, I am ordering you to go and keep your date with Thompson." That got her attention.

"It's not a date," she answered, miffed. "I don't even know him, so don't even _think_ about making us a pairing." Romanoff smirked and stood up, moving over to the door.

"Now you're sounding like you," she said and Stella frowned.

"How do you know what I sound like?" Romanoff stopped half way out the door, contemplating her response.

"You sound like your dad. He always took things either too seriously or joked around," she explained. "We were all very close...Clint, your dad, and I. And you remind the whole force of him." Stella scoffed and flopped down on her bed.

"Yeah. And I sure am doing his name honor."

"You are," Natasha responded softly. "He'd be proud." The door clicked shut, leaving the girl staring at the ceiling. When she closed her eyes she slipped away into a world of no dreams, of such a deep sleep she could neither hear nor see anything, imaginary or real. When she opened her eyes, the sky was darker outside and she was surprised to find that an hour and fifteen minutes had ticked by. She blearily sat up: mess with Thompson and his crew.

Crap.

She pushed herself out of bed and stumbled to the showers for a quick rinse down and changed into some of the clothes her mother had brought her: a v-neck, dark blue shirt and a pair of jeans with her SHIELD uniform jacket. After putting away any valuables where people wouldn't look for them, she hurried out of the room, heading for the nearest map. Mess was down the hall, three halls down the right from there, first door on the left. She turned around and set off, eying everyone around her warily, measuring them up. She didn't know why, but she did. It was something strange that she felt driven to do. She couldn't explain it, but there it was.

Then she entered the cafeteria and everything changed. She was met with lots of sounds, ones she would have thought were impossible considering the austere nature of all of the agents she had met so far.

People were laughing, smiling, some even flirting, others talking with food in their mouths. Overall, they were being very normal people. Shaking her head as she marvelled at the many aspects of human nature, Stella walked over to the food line and grabbed some of that mysterious gray glop they served every Thursday. So far it hadn't killed her, but she remained suspicious whenever she ate it. As she turned around, she looked for Ian, still noting the vast dynamic of each table. However, there was one group of people that drew her gaze more than the others. Their laughter was louder, truer. Their smiles were more vibrant and their conversations more passionate, emphatic. They were a mix of ethnicities and an overall air of close friendship, yet openness to others, radiated from them.

Of course, upon closer examination, she saw that Thompson was sitting at that table. Figures that she would be drawn to the group she was supposed to be at.

"Oh, there she is, speak of the devil," Thompson laughed and she was surprised at the level of light heartedness and boldness that showed in that sentence. "Stella, get over here! I want to introduce you to some of my friends." He looked around at them. "Well, actually my _only_ friends."

A young woman with chin-length, ragged hair dyed a purplish-grey - _why would S.H.I.E.L.D. ever let her do that?!_ Stella wondered - laughed. "Oh yeah, definitely. I mean, who else would want to be friends with _you_?" He rolled his eyes and put an arm around her shoulders to give her a quick peck on the cheek. The girl raised an eyebrow at their strange interaction.

"Oh, look at her, she's so confused," another one of them laughed and gestured for her to take the seat next to him. He was tall and lithe with black hair that fell roughly to the base of his shoulders. His eyes were dark and merry, and he had an distinct personality of humor. "Well, I can see why," he continued as Stella sat beside him. "You see us as strange, serious people twenty-four seven, so seeing two love-birds like them would throw you for a spin. Patrick by the way. Patrick Demos from weapons development."

"Stella," she answered and held a hand out to shake his offered one. "Agent Romanoff's personal punching bag." He smirked and one of the others, a Chinese woman with long black hair in a braided bun nodded thoughtfully. She had a more serious demeanor about her.

"Adequate description judging by your training sessions," she said, taking a bite of her food. "I cringe every time she hits you. How do you not fall apart?" Stella shrugged.

"Because if you fall apart, she'll stand you up and start the process all over again. You need to stay on your feet or get right back up to survive with her," she explained and fell silent momentarily. "What's your name?"

"Oh, I've been so rude!" Ian said and began pointing to people. "This here is my Lily Reichen. She's part of intelligence and technical." The purple haired girl smiled with an impish air about her. "That there is Patrick Demos from weapons development, as you already know. She is Alicia Wong, interrogator and military veteran. And this here is Simon Herring, pilot as well as a disguise and covert operations extraordinaire." There was something mysterious about the last member of the group, Stella reflected.

Simon was a slim, smaller, quiet man of African origins. There was something distinctly "out there" about him, something that clearly showed a forward, vocal personality. His black hair was cropped close to his head in a neat and orderly cut, and his dark eyes sparkled with something secretive.

"Something wrong?" her item of scrutiny asked her in a low, soft, husky voice and Stella started as she realized she had been looking at him longer than was polite.

"No, I'm sorry I was staring," the girl apologized and Alicia nodded and everyone around the table began to look overly interested in things other than Alicia, Simon, and Stella.

"That happens a lot with Simon. Something you can't pinpoint, right?" Stella nodded and focused on her folded hands on the table, feeling very awkward. "Well, you grasped it pretty quick...Simon's a girl." Stella's head snapped up. "Simon" smirked and pulled the wig off to reveal a mussed pixie cut that was streaked with bronze highlights.

"Got you. Name's _Simone_ Herring," she said playfully and rolled up the sleeves of her pilot's uniform. Now that she was smiling and herself again, Stella could clearly see that she was a woman. How did she miss it? "Don't beat yourself up about it. I dedicated my whole life to this sort of stuff. I just got back from a mission, that's why we're hanging out."

"How did it go?" Stella asked after taking a sip of her drink. Simone shrugged.

"It went okay. Not as well as I would have liked - "

"Meaning she ended up neutralizing one of her ten targets instead of bringing him in for questioning - " Patrick interrupted, smirking into his mug, and she glowered at him.

"It was an accident," she growled. "If the idiot hadn't jumped in front of my quinjet - " She was cut off by a spluttering, choking sound.

"You shredded him in your engine?!" Lilly cried, wiping the spewed coffee from her lips. There was an awkward silence, then..."Is the plane okay?" Ian rolled his eyes and the rest of the table laughed, Stella even chuckling a little to herself.

"Oh yeah, she's fine. It would take a lot more than one stupid moron to break old Rogue 1. She's gotten me out of tougher scrapes before." But now, Simone turned her attention to their newcomer. "So, tell us about yourself Stella..."

"Coulson." Dead silence stretched out between them, filled by Thompson clearing his throat a few times. "I take it that means that, well, you all knew my dad," she said softly. Alicia snorted.

"You could say that. He trained me in interrogation," she said softly. "He was a good teacher, too."

"He taught me about my job; crazy disguises sometimes that fooled even Fury," Simone commented and slapped her hand hard on the table as we all fell into morose silence, making most of us jump, except Ian who looked as cool as always.

"Jesus, Sim!" Lily laughed, voice unsteady. "Please watch it before you do that."

"What are we doing?" she asked and leaned back in her chair so she was on two legs. "Come on, can we not mope right now? Lily, you took your aptitude test didn't you? How'd it go?"

"I, uh, it...it went well," she said, scratching behind her ear evasively.

"You failed it, didn't you?" Alicia asked, leaning forward eagerly. "I can tell. You're trying to cover something up."

"I PASSED IT WITH FLYING COLORS!" Lily suddenly cheered and threw her arms up in the air, making Stella start with the sudden unexpectedness of the motion. "Take an aptitude test yourself, Ali. Your interrogation skills are lacking." Alicia glared and Patrick launched a pea at Lily with his spoon. Stella shook her head: she felt as though she was around a bunch of little kids. But that only made her feel more at home and soon she found herself laughing and talking openly with them.

Patrick Demos was an overall clown, one who made you smile but still held a certain entertaining gravity. His eyes were always sparkling with something. And the girl was clearly shocked when she found out that he, not Thompson or Alicia, was the oldest in the group at forty years. He had the attitude and the spirit of a man in his early twenties, and age had been overly generous to him: he didn't look a day over twenty-eight or so. He had joined S.H.I.E.L.D. as a young nineteen year old over a death sentence for multiple, vigilante murders of people later proven to be members close to the center of a criminal ring. You could never tell he was a killer from his personality, but then that was his best weapon.

Lily Reichen was equally buoyant and jovial, though she was second youngest in the group at twenty-five. She had a romantic heart, was an artist, and was, at heart, some sort of mild gothic. Her purplish-grey hair was a perfect reflection of her personality. She was light-hearted and fun, but there was something steely beneath the surface, something covered, secret. She had a willing smile, but an equally willing frown. A playful shove, but a violent strike. She seemed almost bipolar and unpredictable, like one of those geeky, nerdy kids in high school who were bullied all the time and when they were pushed too far beat the living hell out of their tormentors. She came into S.H.I.E.L.D. when my dad, of all people, saw her throw a burglar clear through the window of a Jack in the Box she had been working at. I could only imagine her as an order taker...traumatizing little kids with her wild mood swings, or charming others with her sweetness.

Alicia Wong was something of a mystery. She was surprisingly the youngest of the group at twenty-one, though she looked and behaved so much more mature. There was a glint in her eyes that clearly said she was dangerous and it was that shine that made her past very believable. She had been an orphan, pick-pocketing and stealing in the streets of China. She was the master of her neighborhood to the point where when others saw her coming, they ran for the neighboring streets. She was cool, collected, and serious, and her sense of humor and her smile seemed to be clearly derived from her present company. Despite her young age, she had been at S.H.I.E.L.D. the longest (next to Patrick), having been taken off the streets and put in the organization's custody at age eight.

Simone Herring was kind and gentle, but with a fiery side. She had the closest appearance to her age: she was thirty-five. She had been a dancer before, but had a criminal past of stealing money and profits. She developed a habit of vanishing after a performance and would show up somewhere else looking completely different and under an alias. By the time S.H.I.E.L.D. had tracked her down, she didn't even know what her original name had been. Her parents had died when she was young and she had run away from the orphanage she lived at for a more adventurous life on the streets. That had soon lost its appeal though, leading to her traveling with circuses that came through town until her luck ran out.

And then there was Ian Thompson. He was a man of thirty years and was a bit more on the shy side, though he had a normal childhood, unlike the others. He was intelligent beyond belief, insightful, everything in the book, but what held him back in the real world was an overwhelming sense of boredom and disinterest in all things. He had no motivation to be anything other than a monotonous, robotic, human answering machine in his desk clerk position at a hotel. It was ironic, Stella reflected, that S.H.I.E.L.D. should find this otherwise mild young man in the middle of nowhere much the same as they had found Lily. He had been behind the desk, doodling a rather intricate caricature of a specific one-eyed man seated in the lobby, when his subject of art stood up and wordlessly shot the woman walking rapidly to the desk to check out. Pandemonium erupted as her suitcases tipped over to reveal what seemed like inordinate amounts of money - stolen bank money, as he later found out - and several of her accomplices pulled weapons on the several undercover S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in the room. Over the course of the fire fight, Thompson somehow got one of the fallen guns in his hands and put the barrel to a loose end's head just as he was about to pull the trigger, which would have put a bullet hole in Fury's head.

Obviously the Director had been slightly partial to the man for a while after he was employed.

But then they asked about Stella. And that silence returned.

"Well, you've told me about yourselves, I guess I should tell you about myself..." the girl admitted and the others settled into their seats as though for a story. "Well, my whole life my dad came home with injuries, was away for long periods of time, and always seemed to have to leave so soon after he came home. I never had a Christmas with him save roughly about three times. He was never there for my birthdays except for when I was five. He talked to me a lot, we communicated via video chatting. He promised me so many things, but...well, I guess they'll never happen now. You know, it's funny. You go to school like a normal girl, thinking that when you come home your mom will be playing happy tunes on the cello. The fire will be crackling, the house will be warm, and the smell of baking will be in the air. You'll fail tests, school will suck, but it always gets better."

"You never expect to come home to all of that...and find a strange man you only recognize from stories at your door. You don't expect within the span of a few minutes for the house to become cold, the fire to die, the sweet smell of baking to turn sour as the food burned...for the music to turn sad. You don't expect your world to fall apart. You don't expect to see everything that you see. You don't expect to get kidnapped by traffickers, to get pulled into a government agency, and kill someone your first day there." A heavy silence stretched out at the table.

"You don't expect to realize that your whole childhood was robbed of a sense of innocence. I grew up knowing that there were bad people out there. I grew up knowing there were superheroes and that, well, they could be jerks some times." Here she gained a few soft laughs as they all thought of one person: Stark. "I grew up without the comfort of naivety." Stella looked around. "Like you guys." Thompson nodded and Patrick sighed.

"Well, welcome to our ranks. We're the Assortment of Broken Soldiers. We laugh, smile, joke around whenever we see fit. We don't have an on and off switch for our personalities - "

"Well, they're just broken," Lily interjected and Alicia's mouth twitched down in agreement. "We're psychopaths!"

"Without the psycho part," Thompson amended and Lily frowned.

"Then what are we? Paths?" she asked, turning to face her lover.

"No, we're psycho," Simone argued, siding with her friend and comrade. "Just not the WHOO, LET'S GO KILL SOME PEOPLE! psycho." Thompson pointed at her.

"Fair enough," he said and they all turned to face the nineteen year old. "What do you say? Ready to be a psychopath with us?" Stella sighed and rubbed her forehead.

"Sure why not? It's not like the Coulson's are sane or anything..."

~'*'~

When Stella dropped back onto her bed, it was roughly 2230 hours. There was a lightness in her chest, a blooming sensation filling the cavity that had been left by her father's murder. While she knew she would never completely be whole again - her eyes still smarted at the least when she thought of her dad - she was on her way to healing as in her mind's eye she saw Thompson's languid form sitting in the chair with Lily leaning up against him, half asleep. Patrick sat across from them, wide-awake from his years of experience of stake-outs, eyes glittering a smile on his face. Alicia had that gleam in her expression that said she was happy and content, but still serious and mature. And Simone was smiling, dark complexion slightly rosy with her vehemence of conversation.

She had found a group of cohorts outside of Romanoff and Barton. These were more like your crazy friends at school, the ones no one hung out with because they were too weird. Nat and Clint were her sane support system, her link to her father.

These people, Patrick, Lily, Ian, Alicia, and Simone, were her new friends. But she couldn't even begin to imagine that they would one day be her team.

Romanoff and Barton talked with Fury late into the night though, and the three senior agent definitely could.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: First look at Asgard in all of this. For those of you who were wondering when Loki was going to start coming into this. Though he doesn't really, but we're getting there.**

Out of force of habit, Stella's eyes opened and her body automatically swung out of bed, going through the routine of the morning like a robot while her mind still woke up all the way. Her iPod was playing her alarm, still plugged into the wall from where she had put it the night before. _Was this...Brother Bear?! Since when was this still on my iPod?!_ she thought to herself blearily and immediately turned off the music. Before long, she realized she was dressed, sitting on her neatly made bed, and everything was straightened and tidied. Romanoff hadn't been waiting in any of the closets, making her habitual and reflexive dodging look very strange and almost seizure-like to any outside watcher.

In the end, she decided that she would just grab a little breakfast, then go and begin her preliminary run-through exercises. Maybe Romanoff was waiting for her there. But in both places, she was alone.

SIghing she walked over to her "designated" corner, dropped to the ground and began going through her warm up routine. She had gone through ten sets of fifty push-ups, sit-ups, and various exercises when she heard footsteps approaching her.

"Hey Stella," a voice said and she sat up to see Patrick crouched on the ground before her. "How are you?" Stella smiled and shrugged.

"I'm okay. You?"

"Been better," he said and held a hand down to her which she took, letting herself be pulled to her feet. "I've been thinking. Have you tried the obstacle course yet?"

"Um, no, I don't think so," she answered and looked up at him. "Where is it?"

"Next room over. I think you'll be a natural," he told her, voice full of confidence. They through the door at the far side of the room and the girl's eyes widened.

"Holy shit!" Patrick nodded and clapped her on the shoulder.

"Go on. Oh, you should probably use the rope for that last jump," he said pointing and Stella's eyes widened again.

"You've got to be kidding me," she said, turning to look at her companion, but he was gone, standing over at the start of the course, beckoning her over. "Um, _no._"

"Come on!"

"_No!_"

"Chicken," Patrick said, voice immature and taunting.

...

"_Fine,_" she responded and walked over.

~'*'~

The reason there was no one waiting for her and no indication of what she was doing that day, was because her mentor was currently undergoing a shouting match with a rather irritated director.

"She hasn't even begun her formal training yet!" Romanoff protested, exasperated.

"Then get her started on their training!" Fury retorted. "Council is getting a bit anxious about this. They want her ready for deployment as soon as possible."

"Ready for deployment?" she repeated, voice in disbelief. "What is she a weapon?! Tell the Council that if they want her to be a weapon they should have sent her off to some one else. I'm raising her to be a soldier, not a weapon!"

"Romanoff, I thought we made it clear that she was going to be used for an elite mission. Council wants that mission as soon as possible." Romanoff slammed her fists down on the table and glared at her superior with a fiery gaze.

"This isn't going to work. Either you let me work, or she gets trained by someone else," she growled.

"Not an option. You are going to train her."

"I CAN'T. THAT'S THE PROBLEM HERE!"

"You can. And you will. Speed up the preliminaries. Start physically conditioning her, get her measurements for a uniform, and start properly training her. Then send her out on some real, smaller missions. Those can be her build up. But you need to find her trigger and flip it. You need to get her to that violent phase in the Gladiator Pit - yes I know you call it that - and train her to follow that whenever she goes on a mission. You need to get her to focus on becoming a weapon and less of a sociable agent."

"Then why did you let her meet Thompson and his friends? They're going to be her team, you know that, and they are our most...colorful group."

"I need her to be a sociable agent when required, but I want that violent side to be her base nature." Romanoff laughed bitterly.

"She's practically an adult, Director. She's a year older than everyone else in her grade because she was held back as a kindergartener due to family crisis and instability - meaning us and Phil. Her nature is to be kind, loving, and supportive. Her comparative and opposite characteristics are stubbornness, apathy, and aggression. She's her dad all over again, except with her mother's emotional sensitivity!"

"Her mother's weakness," Fury corrected and the Russian turned away, disgusted. "You need to bring out her other characteristics, Agent. You need to groom those and push her normal self into the back of her mind. We need this." Romanoff looked down at her boots and took an angry breath.

"What would you do if Phil could hear you saying this?" she asked, voice dead and flat. Fury's mouth tightened and he pointed her in the direction of the door. "No, you answer me!" The tall man gazed at her with a stony expression.

"He would understand."

"Understand what?"

"It's for the greater good. All we do is for the greater good, Romanoff. And the mission we would send this girl on is more than just for our greater good, it's for the planet's greater good. You need to bring this out. This nightmare." Romanoff picked up the printed still of the security feed. That angry, dead expression stabbed at Romanoff's heart as did the violent strike to the man's knee that had disabled the other contestant.

"Nightmare..." Romanoff said softly. She shook her head and scoffed before taking the picture and leaving the room.

Barton was just leaving the mess hall when he saw Nat storming in his direction, looking very annoyed. Sighing in resignation, he went to meet her halfway and fell into step beside her. Silence was their only other companion on their way to the training rooms. Finally, the archer couldn't take the tension beside him, the bomb waiting to go off, and asked the question.

"What did Fury do now?"

"He wants me to turn Stella into a weapon over night. For some elite Council mission," she said, voice angry. "I can't just throw the rules and methods out the window to satisfy Council wants! I'm sure that their mission will still be there when I'm done with Coulson."

"They could get rid of you," Barton warned but she simply laughed.

"What and have me on the streets for hire? That would be a global cause for concern."

"No I meant get _rid_ of you." She gave him a look.

"You tried to kill me once. How did that work?"

"Wellll..." he began and Nat rolled her eyes. "Oh, Stella's already in there doing her warm up exercises. Keeps to a schedule." Romanoff raised an eyebrow and tilted her head briefly to the side.

"Seems as though I did something right." They opened the doors and walked in to find all of the people who had been working out a few minutes ago gathered in the doorway. "What's going on?" She and Clint made their way to the front of the crowd and Romanoff sighed, a sense of hidden wonder in her eyes. "You're kidding."

"No...I think that's pretty real," Clint assured her and started as the assassin swatted him upside the head. "Ow!"

"No, it's an illusion, of course it's real!" They watched in silence.

"Damn, she's good," the archer muttered and Romanoff raised an eyebrow and tilted her head to the side.

"Eh...she'll get by."

"You're a hard person to please," Clint told her without removing his fixed gaze from the obstacle course.

"Of course. I'm a Russian assassin," she answered, also keenly staring.

~'*'~

Stella jumped and frowned in focus as her hands caught the acrobatics bar and she swung herself forward releasing at the precise moment to go sailing through the air, somersaulting safely onto the landing platform beside Patrick.

"Fast learner," he commented and she nodded.

"Muscle memory's a bit...hyperactive," she answered and the senior agent took off running again, ducking, sliding, jumping, and climbing with the ease of walking. Stella shook her head doggedly and ran after the man, following his movements as best as she could, wincing as she knocked over a few of the barriers. She didn't even pause to think that those shouldn't be able to fall over before she was racing over to the next obstacle. Patrick was like a parkour fighter, she thought to herself as she took the easier routes when she could, but vaulted over some of the taller walls with an imitation of sloppy grace. Soon, she was at the top of the steeply inclined course and saw Patrick jump for the far ledge.

He had missed the rope hanging midway, and Stella saw what he meant by needing to use it.

Even though he was a senior agent, having spent a majority of his life with S.H.I.E.L.D., he, too, couldn't make it to the far side and instead crashed painfully into the edge, falling down onto the thickly padded ground at least fifteen feet below.

"You okay?" she called down to him, kneeling. The adult shook his head, dazed, stood, and gave her a goofy grin.

"Use the rope, okay? I've been here near twenty years. Don't be an idiot!" he called and stepped off to the side. "Go on, go for it!" Stella stood up and took a shaky breath, laughing nervously to herself.

"This is crazy," she muttered to herself and bounced up and down on her feet, fingers nervously drumming on the side of her leg. She looked over her shoulder and swore as she saw the crowd watching her. This was going to be embarrassing.

Then before she had time to think about it, her feet were moving and she leaped, hands reaching out to grab the rope. As soon as the rough material was between her hands, she clamped her feet down on the thick rope, stopping her descent. She ignored a burning feeling in her hands as the rope swung with her sudden attack.

Almost, just one more swing should do it -

But her nerves got the best of her; she let go.

And Romanoff was running before her apprentice even hit the opposite platform.

~'*'~

"Yes sir, Director. We'll tell you the moment she is ready for training again."

When Stella opened her eyes she found herself staring into the eyes of a specific Doctor Jones.

"Hello there Miss Coulson," she said kindly and immediately pushed the rising girl back down into the bed. "You're not going anywhere right now. You hit your head pretty hard and messed up a few ribs. What was Demos thinking? You are in no way ready for that jump. Most agents aren't until the end of their training. Though..." she said thoughtfully and looked carefully at her, "you came pretty damn close. If you had just waited one more swing or so you would have made it. Did you ever have any overly strong people in your family?" Stella shook her head and sat up again before the doctor could protest. "Didn't that hurt?"

Stella shook her head mutely and the doctor walked over and gently poked and prodded at the girl's ribs.

"What on earth?" she muttered and pulled the supportive bandages aside. She shook her head in bafflement and flipped through a few papers on her clipboard when she froze and ran to her computer, typing furiously. Stella caught a capital R, some strange co-centric circles, but her slightly hazy vision couldn't make out anything else on the rapidly changing computer screen. "Director!" the doctor called, hurrying out the door. "Director, there's something you need to see!"

"Thank god, thought she would never leave," a voice said and Stella tried to shrink down in her bed as Romanoff stepped out of the closet and shut the door. "How are you?"

"Pretty good actually," she answered and Romanoff shrugged.

"Well that's what happens when you're genetically favored." Stella frowned.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, disoriented. Romanoff gave her that annoying raised eyebrow, and the assassin sat on the bed by her.

"What were you thinking?" she asked after a few moments of silence.

"I...I don't know," Stella answered, but Romanoff waited expectantly. For about two minutes, they engaged in an on and off staring contest that ended with Stella's eyes shifting away guiltily. "I guess...I wanted to make you proud," finally came the soft answer. Romanoff nodded and relaxed her tense sitting position. Had that answer come from anyone else, she would have treated it as another lie. But coming from Coulson's daughter, she believed it.

"Well, Stella you'll have a long time to do that. I don't want you to tackle things that you aren't ready for to try and impress me," the agent admonished and Stella nodded, looking down. "You did well though. Tell you what, every day after our basic training you can try to get that jump. When you can do that course properly, under forty-five seconds, you won't be an apprentice anymore. When you can make the final jump, _without_ that rope, you'll be ready for your final mission." Stella gaped slightly.

"Under forty-five seconds, and without the rope?!" she asked shocked. Romanoff looked at her cooly.

"It can be done," she assured the girl and walked to the door.

"Who was it?" the girl asked as she was half-way out the door. "You?" Romanoff gave a short bark of laughter before turning her head to look at the girl on the bed.

"No. It was someone normal. Without any enhancements. He did that course in forty-five seconds flat. A course that takes me fifty seconds. In a situation of life or death, those five seconds mean everything."

"What about the jump? How did he do it without the rope?" Romanoff hesitated, thinking.

"He took four steps," she answered slowly. "Closed his eyes, backed up, ran, and jumped."

"He did it with his eyes _closed_?!" Stella asked, taken-aback and disbelieving. Romanoff looked at her steadily.

"Phil was always a man of self-faith."

Nat closed the door and left the startled girl alone with her thoughts.

~'*'~

Demos was pacing back and forth in his quarters, literally wanting to beat his head in on the wall. How could he have asked her to jump? How?! Why?! He should have realized she couldn't have made it! Now she was lying in the medical bay, dying for all he knew and -

"Demos? Can I come in?" an authoritative voice asked and he yanked open the door to reveal Director Fury standing in his doorway.

"D - Director," he stammered but the taller man waved his concern aside. "I'm sorry for what happened with Stella, I swear it is all my fault. I pressured her into it. You've got to believe me it was my fault and not - "

"Demos! Settle down!" Fury ordered and the agent fell silent. "I want you to gather Simone Herring, Lily Reichen, Ian Thompson, and Alicia Wong in here right now." Demos nodded.

"Yes sir."

"And Demos!" he called as the agent practically ran out of the room.

"Yes sir?"

"Please don't look like Death just warmed you over. Relax, none of you are in trouble." Patrick nodded with the same level of tenseness.

"Yes sir." He ran out the door and Fury sighed, rubbing his face in exasperation. Maybe it was the eyepatch, he thought to himself idly as he waited for the agents to return. Or was it the trench coat?

Maybe it was both, he conceded.

~'*'~

"Before you ask, no you're not in trouble. Am I disappointed with what happened to Stella Coulson? Yes, but that is not why you are all here. You are here because I am assembling you in a team," the Director said seriously and the five agents looked at each other in some surprise. "Yes you can look surprised. You don't have to hide it."

"Sir, why, if I may ask?" Alicia asked and their superior eyed her carefully.

"Stell Coulson comes from a special line," he said finally. "Her father was one of our best agents and we plan to make Stella one of our best agents. We want to create an elite force in our own organization, a go to team since Romanoff and Barton are with the Avengers and therefore unreliable. All you need to know at this moment is that Coulson is destined for greater things than anyone on the force right now - "

"Save the Avengers," Lily interjected and Fury glared momentarily. "Sorry."

"You aren't actually right with that statement. Stella Coulson is meant for a task that even the Avengers can't take on. But in order for her to reach that level, she'll need a team, a group she can rely on. And I want you all to be that group. You'll take her on real missions so that she can gain the experience needed for her final mission."

"Final? How long will we be a team?" Ian asked, confused.

"For as long as it takes. Hopefully no more than two years."

"Then why will it be her final mission?" Simone responded slowly.

"You're beginning to ask too many questions," Fury growled. "This last bit of the conversation you can not under any circumstance tell Stella. It would be catastrophic."

"Why?" Lily asked, belligerently, and Fury looked at them all.

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," he answered coldly. No further questions were asked.

~'*'~

From that day on, Stella trained earlier and went later. Her body hardened. Romanoff hit harder and faster. Soon, they were a deadly ballet that went on for hours, a dance of parries, hits, and brutal force. And at the end of every day, Stella took on the obstacle course, becoming better at the moves needed to go through the maze of challenges. But her time remained fixedly at sixty seconds. No matter how fast she ran, how hard she practiced, how long she trained. Sixty seconds was her limit. Every day.

She began group exercises of tactics and strategy with her team, they ran stimulations, stayed up late studying. They memorized target profiles, tested each other on the content, and learned each others every aspect. They could communicate through a single glance, the slightest inflection in their voice.

And every day, Stella woke up faster, got ready quicker, and became more ruthless. More violent, more robotic. More of a machine. Romanoff tried to ignore it, but it was there. The girl that she had appreciated for her personality, her balanced self was vanishing to be replaced by a weapon. But when her training was over, that was switched off, revealing her normal self. But still there was a damper on her spirit. As though something was breaking, creaking under the pressure.

And Romanoff hated it. She knew what it felt like to be unmade by people who were supposed to be supporting her, and she didn't want to be the instrument doing it to someone else. And that was when she made her choice. No more. Not ever.

So, one day, Romanoff gave the girl a day off and took her out of the base for the first time in months.

"Where are we going?" Stella asked and Romanoff looked at her.

"I want to take you to a special place that I like going to. I have some things I need to talk to you about."

~'*'~

_The air was cold. So...cold..._

_His wounds ached and burned as though ice and fire were being applied to his body alternatively. Like fire and ice..._

_What do you want from me?! his tortured, raw voice screamed. _

_But of course there was no sound. There never would be any sound. Never. No matter how long or how hard he screamed, there would be no sound to shatter the peaceful air. The only sound would be in his imagination, for even his mind was silent. _

_Bloodied hair, torn up skin, emaciated form, hollow eyes bereft of the hope or will to live any longer, yet lacking the conviction needed to die. Limbs devoid of the strength to fight back any more, yet left with enough instinct to try and resist. Helpless to defy his fate, and left with some shred of hope for redemption. Heart yearning to scream to relieve his soul's pain, yet a throat too abraded to make any more noise. And a mouth forever sealed. _

_There would never be any sound ever again._

Heimdall withdrew his gaze from the dismal sight and turned it towards Midgard. It was always a method of calming his troubled mind, gazing at Midgard. There was always a happy family to warm his heart, little children playing, places of peaceful beauty. But this time there was something that drew his gaze. Something menacing stirring that he could not pinpoint. Something that he couldn't define as person, thing, entity, or something else. All he knew was it was living. And it was growing.

**A/N: so, slightly cliff-hangery ending (I just love those). Why do you think Stella healed so quickly? Should I keep the Coulsons normal (preferable) or have a slightly super aspect to their family including co-centric circles?**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I will personally tackle anyone who catches the Doctor Who and BBC Being Human references in a GIANT hug!**

Romanoff and Stella were walking along one of the trails in Golden Gate Park. It was quiet and peaceful, away from the rush and noise of S.H.I.E.L.D. though the apprentice wouldn't have been surprised if all of the hikers and runners they passed were really members of the government agency. Every passerby was an agent, a spy, stalking them, making sure they didn't do anything rash or stupid. Finally, Romanoff pulled her aside to sit on one of the benches in silence. The air was clean and fresh without the smells of plastic or synthetic materials and it was nice to feel the warmth of the sun and the touch of the breeze again after so long.

"Stella, I need to tell you something," the older woman began and checked if they were truly alone. "For this mission, Fury is calling in outside people, experts in the fields of energy, genetics, and technology. People like Tony Stark, Eric Selvig, and Doctor Banner. People who were in on the Tesseract project are coming back and everything is being hidden behind closed doors again. I don't know what it is that the Director is planning to use you for, but if you don't want to do it when he hands you the assignment, you don't have to," the adult said and Stella looked at her in bafflement.

"But you've been training me for this mission. Why wouldn't you want me to take it?" Romanoff took a deep breath to prepare herself. This was the part that needed to be said and would hurt to say it.

"Because we're destroying you," she finally said, looking over to stare Stella in the eye. "You don't notice it. You _won't_ notice it until it's too late. But I want to bring it to your attention now. Every day, what do you wake up to do? You get up, make your bed, get dressed in the S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform. And you go to fight. And the way you and I fight is _ruthless_. It's _deadly_. But you don't recognize it anymore because it's become a routine, a series of responses to a series of stimuli. It becomes a natural reflex. When you're trying to hit me back," Romanoff hurriedly interjected as she saw Stella opening her mouth to argue, "are you thinking training exercise, or exploiting weaknesses?" The girl hesitated and the agent continued pointedly. "When you run that course are you thinking just get it done, or are you thinking if I _was_ in this scenario and someone _was_ there could I kill them with this maneuver?"

Something cold settled in Stella's chest.

"When you're fighting me, do you stop to think that if you used those moves in real life you would kill someone? Do you feel any qualms about doing that anymore? Because I know the girl who came from a backwoods home in Oregon would never want to kill unless it was absolutely necessary, or life-threatening. You would wait to see if anything else happened before pulling that trigger, like you did in your entrance exam. Do you think anymore about what you're doing, or is it just orders?"

"I - I don't know," Stella finally whispered in the tense silence that followed, and Romanoff nodded.

"I know. I know you don't know anymore. I didn't when S.H.I.E.L.D. found me, and until I met Clint and your dad I still didn't."

"What would my dad say if he saw me now?" the girl moaned and buried her face in her hands.

"Your dad would understand that it wasn't your fault. And then he would go and take it out on Fury," Nat assured her but there was something sinister in the form beside her.

"They've been using me," she whispered, horrified at the realization. "They've...been _using_ me."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. uses everyone, it's all they ever do." Stella looked up at the red head beside her, something strange in her eyes.

"And you've let them. You recommended me." Romanoff looked at the distressed girl beside her and shook her head.

"No. Well, yes we recommended you, but I've tried to protest against their training routine. I've tried to train you in my own way - "

"And I'm _still_ a monster. So what does that make you?"

"Stella - "

"No. Don't try and cover this up!" Stella snapped, standing. "I'm going back to have a word with Director Fury." Romanoff got to her feet and reached out to grab her angry apprentice's shoulder.

Mistake number one.

"Stella, I don't think that's - " she began, only to be violently cut off.

"Don't TOUCH ME!" Stella shouted, swinging her opened hand around in a practiced move. There was a loud crunching noise as the heel of the girl's hand slammed into the shorter woman's cheek bone and nose. Romanoff fell with the unexpected movement, hand covering her injury. Trembling, Stella looked down at her hand to see a dark red fluid staining her palm. She felt light-headed and sick to her stomach.

"Oh my god, I - I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she said frantically, backing away from the rising agent. "I don't know what happened! It just - "

"Stella, it's okay it was my fault," Romanoff said thickly through her bloody nose. _That had been a hard hit..._she thought as she felt the blood coursing from her face. But when the agent looked up, she was alone. There was a loud crash from up ahead and she saw her charge running for the street, throwing a hurried apology over her shoulder to where she had knocked over a runner. "Stella? Stella, come back!" Nat began chasing after the girl, making the recruit run faster, blinder.

Mistake number two.

Romanoff was fast, but Stella was the number one cross country runner in the region. The assassin eventually gave up and watched the girl vanish around the corner into the crowded streets. What was it that had set her off? Romanoff had grabbed her shoulder before to stop Stella from storming over to Fury and upsetting an already delicate situation. For her efforts, she had never gotten punched in the face for it. But why -

That was when it hit her.

Natasha reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the crinkled picture of Stella Coulson kicking in the knee of Stephenson in a shadowed corner of the Gladiator Pit.

_Sorry little girl. This is an adult's game. Go on home to your mummy and daddy. I'm sure they're stupid and slow, completely unworthy of this place._

And then just now...

_"They've been using me. They've...been using me."_

_"S.H.I.E.L.D. uses everyone, it's all they ever do."_

_"And you've let them. You recommended me...a__nd I'm still a monster. So what does that make you?"_

_"Stella - "_

_"No! Don't try and cover this up!"_

Both times, she had been implacably angry. She was in a situation that felt threatening, or someone made a move that she felt could be taken as threatening and she'd lashed out. Completely by accident, Romanoff had found the switch. But now, she had lost the weapon.

~'*'~

"What do you mean she ran away?" Fury asked in disbelief.

"You wanted the switch? Well, I found it!" Romanoff said angrily in protest, holding a white cloth to her nose. "Piss her off enough and she goes crazy..." Clint raised an eyebrow.

"Who doesn't?" he commented wryly, and Fury glared at him.

"Well, we'll send out agents to find her and hopefully she will have calmed down some - "

"Sir, she's calmed down all right. But now she's terrified of herself and that's worse than any anger she could have been feeling before. This time, she feels self-destructive. I don't think it would be wise to send anyone after her. Let her come back," Natasha advised and both men looked at her in surprise.

"You expect her to come back?" Clint asked her, incredulous. "From what you told us of your conversation, it seemed as though she got pretty pissed off at S.H.I.E.L.D." Nat smiled bitterly and said with sarcastic retaliation:

"Who doesn't?" The archer rolled his eyes and went back to leaning against the wall in Fury's office.

"About that conversation," Fury began and the assassin braced herself for a long pointless lecture.

~'*'~

Stella was wandering and she knew it. Wandering with no sense of where she was or what direction she had come in. All she knew was that she was standing in front of a large enclosure looking at buffalo. Why there were real, living, breathing buffalo in San Francisco, she had no idea - although if she read that sign that said something about it, she would no doubt have found out the answer - but they were pretty soothing to watch. They weren't as loud or annoying as people; there was something about them that made them more...zen.

They were outcasts in a world that was so strange and different, and she sympathized with that. She told herself that there was no way she was going back to that place, there was no way she was going to bow down to S.H.I.E.L.D. Then, she had to convince herself that _no_, she _wasn't_ stranded out in the middle of nowhere without them and that _yes,_ she _could_ figure out how to get back to Oregon on her own. After about half an hour of doubts and counter-doubts, and a rather painful slamming of her head on a tree as her mind over-loaded with inner dialogue, she had resigned herself to sitting down and watching a gopher pop his head out of his little gopher hole.

Again, something more zen. She liked that word: _zen._ It sounded weird but soothing. It sounded, well, zen. _What the hell is wrong with my mind? _she thought to herself and rested her head on her knees.

_There's a lot wrong with your mind, so where do you want to start? _a snide voice asked her and Stella groaned. _How about where it constantly derails artfully onto another track every four words?_

_Not you again, go _AWAY!

_But I'm the half that makes you strong, Stel,_ the voice taunted. _I'm the one that's been making Daddy proud. Been making Romanoff proud. I'm the one that punched her in the face. _

_Then go away. Daddy wouldn't be proud right now. _

_Of course he would, what are you talking about? We're his little monster._

_No, _you're_ a monster. Not his little monster, just a monster. I'm the one who was his. _

_Yeah right! _I'm_ the one who ever did anything he loved you for. You're just the wallflower, the little fly on the wall, the bird that chirps so quietly no one can hear. What do you think that you're doing, calling yourself the loved one, and me the monster?!_

_Stop it, and just go away._ I _am the one that dad loved. _I _am the one that made him proud. _I_ am. _I _am the one._

_Yeah right, you need me. You're_ nothing_ without me._

_I don't need you anymore._

_Oh yeah, sure. Of course, your royal majesty...like that's going to work. _

_Go away!_

"I'm sorry, was I disturbing you?" a voice asked, taken aback and startled. Stella's head shot up from its rest on her arms to see a tall man with blond hair and blue eyes standing beside her, leaning on the fence to examine the majestic animals of the past. _  
_

"No, I'm sorry. I was...talking to myself," she said slowly and got to her feet to stand beside him. Mentally, she kicked herself for speaking out loud, especially that last part. She turned her attention to her partner: there was something decidedly familiar about the man, but she couldn't place it at the moment.

"Telling yourself to go away?" he asked in slight concern. "You okay?" She laughed bitterly and shook her head.

"You could say that I'm okay. Then again, you could say I'm a mess with my brain wired all wrong," she answered, turning to look at the man beside her. "I find that these guys calm me down some. I mean, they're so..."

"Zen?" her companion asked and she looked at him in surprise, a smile shining on her face and in her eyes and she laughed.

"Yeah. Yeah, exactly! That was exactly what I thought. They're so zen." They softly laughed at the awkward coincidence and watched the animals sit and graze. "I mean, they're not really active, but they're comforting, you know? Animals out of time and yet they're still here in their groups. They're still surviving."

"Yeah, I guess they are." He looked down at her in thought. "You remind me of someone I knew before...a really long time ago. Do I know you?" Stella looked up at him and shook her head. "Oh, sorry. That must have felt a bit strange." Stella shook her head again and smiled slightly to herself. "Your smile it's just...reminds me of someone I knew when I was younger. Her name was Peggy," he said softly to himself, pulling a picture out of his wallet and the girl looked up quickly.

"My grandmother's name is Peggy," she said in disbelief and laughed again, that smile shining. It made the man smile too and he showed her the picture. "No way. That looks just like my grandmother too! I wonder if they're related..."

"What did you say your name was?" he asked, genuinely curious as he looked between the photo and the girl beside him.

"I - I didn't," she responded carefully. "I'm kind of trying to remain a little under cover right now." He looked around at the open road and their public location. "I know, I'm not doing that very well," she sighed playfully, and he nodded in agreement. "But so far, it's just you, me and the buffalo," she said in a sing-songy way, and the man gave that quiet, light laugh once more.

"You know, no one's made me laugh this much in a long time," he commented. "My friend told me to come down and look at the buffalo, you know. I mean at first I thought Stark was joking, but they really are soothing...in a sense." Stella looked up at him again, taken aback.

"Stark?"

"Yeah?"

"_Tony_ Stark? As in pain in the ass Tony Stark?" The man frowned at her familiar tone of voice.

"Who are you?" he asked, voice slightly more forceful. Then it clicked. Stella's eyes widened as the rather handsome features fell into place. It was suddenly raining in her mind's eye, the grass was soaking wet under her feet, and an open casket was before her. Her father's still, peaceful face flashed behind her eyes and she stepped away from him.

"I - I'm sorry if I insulted you by insulting your friend, Captain Rogers. It was an - "

"How did you know my military title?" Steve demanded, stepping closer to her. "I have seen you before somewhere, who are - " He froze and looked at her in bafflement. "I _do_ know you. What are you doing here? Are you okay?" Stella tried to snatch her hand away as Rogers grabbed her blood stained hand and held it palm up. "What happened? Stella, right? Stella Coulson - "

"Let me go!" she shouted, an inexplainable fear building up in her as she tried to break free. "Let me go, or I will hurt you."

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"I don't want to hurt you, but I _really_ can't help it as of late and - "

"Hey, who's after you - " When the ringing was finally gone from Steve's ears, he found himself flat on his back with a bruise rising on his cheek. He got to his feet and watched in complete confusion as an average girl ran far too quickly and leaped over the fences and low walls with far too much agility to be normal. There was something very wrong here. Very, very, very wrong.

_Could it be...I mean, she knew Peggy and all that, and Stella reminded me so much of her - _

_Neeeeoooooo_, he told himself, mind substituting a strange version of "no" in his head. _Don't even go _there. _Don't even_ think _about going there_. _Because _there_ would just be...no. Just...no. Would that have made Coulson my son? JESUS _no_. God those conversations with him just got so much more awkward. __  
_

He set off in the direction of a particular building on a particular street corner. He had an unplanned appointment with S.H.I.E.L.D.

~'*'~

Stella sprinted as fast as she could, barely realizing that she was lying over obstacles in her way without a single error. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she realized with some horror that she had just punched _Captain America_ of all people in the face and knocked him clean over.

She didn't even stop to think that that should have been physically impossible for her. Or about the fact that her grandmother Peggy looked suspiciously like Roger's Peggy.

She was a monster, and monsters needed to be locked away or tamed. There was only one place where Stella could do that, and she hated them with her very core right then. She wanted nothing more than to go into isolation, hide from the public forever, but that wasn't going to work out at all. She would still worry about losing control in her fear, in her anger.

_Jesus, I'm starting to sound like Doctor Banner_, the girl thought to herself in unpleasant realization and continued running through the crowded streets, trying to get back to the base.

When she passed over the threshold of the headquarters, it was only then she realized that she wasn't tired at all, hadn't broken a sweat, and somehow remembered the exact routes and turns to take even though she hadn't been trying. All she knew was that she had to get to her room, lock the door, and never come out until someone told her what was going on here. What was going on with her, and how she could fix it: that was all she wanted to know.

And as she sat curled up in the far corner of her room humming "Somewhere" to herself and thinking of how her dad used to sing to her, she slowly fell asleep. Though it may have been unconsciousness.

___"Move away please." Loki looked up to see Phil Coulson, her daddy, standing over the unconscious agent with the gun pointed at the god. "You like this? We started on the prototype after you sent the destroyer." This time, Stella found she could move. She could even make sound. _

___"Dad, no!" she shouted and ran from her position behind everything. This dream was different, very different. He looked over his shoulder and frowned. _

___"Stella, what are you - "_

___"Dad, he teleports!" she said, pushing her father so his back was against a wall. "He could come up behind you!"_

___"What are you doing here?" he asked her seriously and kept the gun aimed at Loki who was still backing away like the coward he was. "Stel, what are you doing here?" _

___"I'm...I'm saving your life," she said unsteadily. Why couldn't he see that? _

___"I have everything under control, thanks," he said with is sarcastic tone. Now _that _sounded like her dad. "What do you mean you're saving my life? How do you know I'll die?"_

_"Because I've seen this before. He shows up behind you and kills you. The gun - " she continued hurriedly, taking it out of her father's arms. "It doesn't work. It doesn't kill him: it only slows him down. You - you die. I won't let that happen!" Her gut clenched as her dad shook his head and gently put his hands on either side of her head, gently cupping her face. _

_"I know, Stella. I know it doesn't work. Now, give me back the gun, and run." _

_"But you die!" _

_"Stella, it has to happen."_

_"You LEFT me! You left MOM!" _

_"Stella, my duty is to my country and to the world. But my heart belongs to you and your mom, you hear me?" _

_"But I can save you," she protested, tears welling._

_"It doesn't work that way," he told her kindly and gently took the weapon back from her, quickly giving her a peck on the forehead. "Now, stay out of the way, baby squirrel. It may get a bit messy." Stella shook her head._

_"It's quick. Through..." her voice broke, and the girl just reached out to put a hand over her father's heart. _

_She was frozen beside him as she saw Loki vanish and appear beside her, ramming the scepter through the agent's chest. He fell to the ground and Loki walked by her, giving her a smirk that was purely evil. Her dad's eyes pinned her down, and he gave her a sad small smile. She fell to her knees by him and held his hand as his eyes lost their sight and his body fell still. __The god laughed at her tears, and in her peripheral vision she saw him place a hand on her shoulder and bring his arm back, moving it forward - _

_But that anger was back, clawing and biting inside of her. She stepped forward and twisted around, grabbing Loki's arm and snapping it backwards with a painful jerk, hearing a crack as his joint broke. The weak coward fell to his knees and she snatched up his scepter, still coated with her father's blood. She looked down at his cowering form and drove it down through the armor, through the chain mail, through the layers of cloth, and through the steel plated floor to pin the Frost Giant to the ground. She examined her work as her victim writhed in pain, ineffectively trying to pull free. Straight through the heart, she noted with a cold sense of satisfaction as Loki gave one last shuddering cry and died._

_A perfect hit. _

_Vengeance._

Stella's eyes opened and she found herself still sitting in the corner of her room, still in the same position. Strangely her heart beat wasn't erratic with adrenaline from the dream. Her hands weren't shaking. Her throat wasn't hoarse as an indicator that she had been shouting again. She was, altogether, very lucid and collected. She stood up and walked over to her bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Dark circles shadowed her eyes and there was a sinister air to her face and her frame.

_You're angry,_ that voice commented. The voice for a change wasn't snide or rude. It was simply a statement.

_I sure as hell am angry!_

_Why?_

_Because all of this is dad's fault._

Dad's_? How is it _dad's_? He unified the Avengers and in the long run was responsible for saving the world! How is this _his_ fault?!_

_It's his fault because he was an idiot. He should have waited - _

Now _you're starting to sound like Stark. He had a duty to the country and to the world. You heard him in your dream! __  
_

_That was a dream, stupid. _

_But you know that that's what he would have said. _

_I know, but still! I hate him for that!  
_

_It wasn't his fault that Loki could teleport!_

Stella stopped arguing for a moment, allowing her opponent to have the last word momentarily. Her hands were hurting from where she was gripping the rim of the sink, and she slowly relaxed the tension that was making even her arms shake.

_No...it's not, _she growled in her mind. _It's _his_ fault. It's Loki's fault._

_What, so now you want to take on a god? He could squish you like a bug, you fool!_

_It's HIS fault that dad's dead! Now, if there's one thing we can agree about, it's that dad would still be here if it wasn't for Loki! I know I can't have dad back. I_ know_ that! I accept it, see I'm done being a stubborn moron! But I can find out more about this...mission. They said Stark and Selvig were coming in. And Banner. This mission comes from the Council and they're always concerned about war from Asgard. Loki's a loose canon. _

NO_. You're not doing that!_

_They're making an inter-dimensional portal, don't you get it?! It could take us anywhere, and they're training me to be an assassin. So...what the hell. Let's kill Loki._

Stella pushed the voice out before it could respond and yanked her uniform on over her head. She had a conversation to have with a specific Director. She threw the door open and completely ignored the fact that she had been arguing against a rather soft side of herself: the side _she_ was usually. Now, she was the angry, irrational side. She hadn't gone two steps when an eager voice called out to her.

"Stella!" The girl turned around to see Lily Reichen running over, an excited smile on her face. "Stella, they're all waiting."

"Who?" she asked, baffled.

"Everyone. They're all waiting at the obstacle course."

"What for?"

"If you do it in the right time, they want to send you out on your first team missions," the agent explained, grinning, and a gleam shone in Stella's eyes.

It was time.

**So, LOTS of inner dialogue here, sorry if that's confusing. Please review! So...what do you think of Stella's grandmother being Peggy and her grandfather being Cap? Which side of the family though, that's the question... :P**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: The obstacle course in this chapter and the previous ones is based off of the Parkour obstacle courses, just to clarify. Hope you enjoy and please review!**

_Soaring through the air with one swing. It was a wonderful feeling that sent her stomach swooping up into her throat and drop down at the same time. It made her feel powerful and infinite. Unstoppable. Then came the hard ground beneath her feet and she somersaulted across the floor to crash in an graceless heap on the floor. She took in a deep breath and stared at her four gaping friends and team members. Adrenaline was pumping through her making her limbs shake and tremble. Her heart was hammering in her chest so hard it was hurting._

_She'd almost had it. Almost._

_But the fear of falling had been too great, the temptation of the rope to much. Romanoff was by her side in an instant, gently yet firmly putting her hands on the girl's shoulders._

_"Why do we fall, Coulson?" she asked determined. Stella took several breaths to steady herself._

_"So we can learn..." she responded. "So we can learn how to pick ourselves back up." She turned around and looked at the large jump and took a deep breath._

_Four steps._

_Four:_

_He closed his eyes._

_Stepped back._

_Ran._

_And jumped._

~'*'~

Stella quickened her pace as she walked beside Lily, earning a disconcerted glance from the woman.

"Something wrong?"

"No. I just realized something about myself. And I want to prove it."

"Prove that you were right?" Agent Reichen asked, but Stella shook her head.

"No. Prove that _they_ were right. Prove that Fury was right. He wanted an assassin - " she laughed bitterly. "I won't disappoint him." Lily watched her with something close to worry. There was something that was not right about the girl right now. She was unnaturally...angry. Stella was never angry about anything, Lily reflected. Or if she was, she hid it pretty well. Once they rounded the corner, another man - quite out of place in his citizen clothing - ran right by where they had been standing in a beeline for Fury's office. Both of the agents were too preoccupied to give him any attention or recognize him for that matter, though it may have been for the best...

Because Steve Rogers wasn't in the best of moods. He had a bruise rising on his cheek, he was very confused, and Fury seemed to be deliberately avoiding him. All together, not a good combination. So, when he burst into the director's office, it was with the full intention of engaging in as controlled of an argument as possible. However, he was simply met with an empty desk, a dark room, and papers that looked as though they hadn't been touched in ages. Fury didn't seem like the type of person to just drop everything for a long period of time. Puzzled by the seemingly frozen state of the office, Steve slowly stepped forward to the desk and looked down at the paper on the top of the stack. In his mind, he could hear his conversation with Banner and Stark on the Helicarrier.

_And yet you wonder why Fury doesn't want you around._

Well, the one-eyed man _had_ left the paper out, but the big red stamp across the top that read TOP SECRET turned him off of it. After all it would be immoral to read a top secret document. However, just as he was turning away, a series of numbers and letters caught his eye:

SKJ 08U7342.

The pit of his stomach dropped out as he realized he recognized those numbers from somewhere he couldn't place, and he quickly snatched up the paper.

**Condition: critical. Nearly brain dead, bodily functions shutting down.**

**Illness: never seen before; form of deteriorating coma, not medically induced.**

**Cause: unknown, possibly alien.**

**Voluntary termination: if hopeless case, termination opted.**

**Time until voluntary termination: undecided.**

**DNR: negative; attempt to keep alive.**

**Possibility of survival: negligible.**

**Immediate relatives: daughter and wife unaware of situation; remain that way until further notice.**

**Original injury/illness: life-threatening chest wound in very close proximity to the heart.**

**Agent number: SKJ 08U7342.**

**Agent name: confidential.**

Where had he seen those numbers before? They meant something to him, he knew they did, but where -

"Can I help you with something?" came a sudden voice and Steve turned around, discretely placing the paper back where it was behind him. Hill was standing in the doorway.

"I'm looking for Director Fury. I have a personal matter I would like to discuss with him," he answered and walked over to stand before to her. "Would you happen to know where he is?" Hill frowned.

"Are you alright, captain? You have a bruise - "

"Yes, I _know_. I had a run in with one of your agents. Director Fury, where is he?" Looking very flustered, Hill cleared her throat.

"Oh, he's in the training room's obstacle course. We have a promising recruit that he wants to see in action."

"Can you take me there? I'm afraid that S.H.I.E.L.D. maps aren't of the best clarity." Hill nodded and began walking, the super soldier having to speed walk initially to keep up with her. "Who is it, by the way?" Hill hesitated.

"Someone with a lot of talent. God help her targets," she finally answered, evoking a raised eyebrow from the tall man beside her. It might be Phil's daughter, seeing the way she had acted when he had seen her before.

"Do I know her?" he asked, hoping to get something more out of the agent, but she clammed up once more and continued on her way.

~'*'~

"Agent Coulson, Director Fury has decided that if you can pass this one test then you will be able to go on your preliminary training missions. Bear in mind, these will be training missions for you, but they are full blown, delicate missions that have real consequences. They will require you to think on your feet, be agile, and be fast. And more importantly to be efficient at all of that," Romanoff lectured, pacing back and forth before the tense girl. Fury was waiting in the shadows off to the side, watching; her team of fellow misfit agents was standing off to the right, all looking nervous. "if you want to advance any further, you need to be able to run this course in 50 seconds - that is 10 seconds off of your best time - and successfully do the jump. All of this in 50 seconds. Or _less_."

"Define successfully do the jump," Stella asked, though it was more of a demand, and Romanoff eyed her carefully.

"No rope, or one _very_ brief swing."

Stella nodded and moved into position, Romanoff stepping off to the side by Clint who was waiting by the door. In the corner of her eye, she saw the director hold up a stop watch and prepare to press start. The world slowed way down as she took in the steeply inclined obstacle course. Her mind judged angles, distances, force and reaction force, balance, everything. Everything was measured to the last detail. She dropped into classic runner's stance and noted a small frown from Romanoff who disapproved of that starting position. She pushed her mentor out of her mind.

Deep breaths.

In and out...in and out...

Remember, nothing exists outside of you. You run and run and never stop. Just run. Run, jump, kick, and fight. Focus on the task before you. Silence, stillness, peace. Get into position. Brace yourself.

She stopped breathing momentarily, the split second before the Director's thumb pressed the button. Utter tranquility settled down upon the course, all other noise vanished, and she was in her own little sphere.

_Beep_. She took off running, feet slamming the floor in her wild dash. Stress dropped away and her speed increased to a blinding rate. Her father's broken image filled her mind, and she didn't push it away. See it. Look at it. Know what you're running for. Her fear turned to anger and her anger turned to strength. Run. Run as though the monster is after you. Run as if -

Monster.

Her speed increased and the first four jumps she cleared with the utmost efficiency and grace, minimizing her movements but exerting the optimum amount of force wanted. She swung up on the bar, launching through the air to the next obstacle. Everything was perfect. She felt as though she were flying.

Monster.

She felt that small voice in her protest, reciting the security feed, but the violent, rash side pushed it out. Monster? Bring it on. Loki didn't scare her. Not now, not ever again. He was going to get it. He would taste vengeance served by the daughter of one of his victims that he killed in cold, cold blood. She could picture herself gaining her revenge, redeeming her father. She could picture the next time she saw Loki: she would be the one with a weapon poised to take him down. She would be the one with that smirk, the one in control. She would be the one to say:

_Have I got your attention now?_

Her speed increased again and Lily's mouth dropped open in awe. Ian's eyes widened, and Patrick humphed in surprise.

"What do you know?" he muttered, and Simone gawped at him.

"That all you have to say?_ What do you know?!_ She is _incredible_!" she whispered and pointed at the vaulting form. "She's like something out of the movies!"

Steve walked into the room, ready to drag Fury out to ask him just what he had been hiding but stopped when he saw everyone staring in almost captivated awe. His own eyes widened in shock as he saw a girl flying over barriers as though it were as easy as walking. He frowned. There was something familiar about her...He nearly jumped in surprise when she jumped across a massive gap and landed on the side of the wall like a frog, only to kick off, soar over another three bars, and fall to the floor in a back flip. She stood up from her crouch and went on to the next series of challenges. But it was in that one moment that she had looked over her shoulder to make sure she would clear the next jump that the soldier recognized her.

In fact, she had just punched him in the face not ten minutes ago. There was a sense of pride in him for some reason...watching Coulson's daughter do such amazing things. Such...humanly _impossible _things. Then, the air changed to one of tense waiting as she leaped and climbed over the final obstacles.

It was time.

~'*'~

Stella looked down at her absent wrist watch and mentally kicked herself for not grabbing it. She estimated that she had ten seconds to go up there and make the jump. Ten seconds. Ten. Ten. The word repeated in her head in an incessant beat in sync with her racing heart. She flew over her obstacles and was in the clear, running and sprinting for the jump.

The ground yawned open before her, a dark abyss reaching up to pull her down. The distance was so far, she thought bitterly. There was no way she was going to make it. And at that point, she realized she was going to fail. But she pushed the thought out of her head. Two steps. A single second.

_You need to jump. Gather your legs under yourself and jump, that's all you need to do!_ her rash side shouted. And that was when her soft self took over again.

_No. If I fall now, there is no way that I will go on this mission, or any mission for that matter. I need to run and jump, yes. But I'll use the rope._

_DON'T USE THE ROPE, OR I WILL KILL YOU._

_**I'M **USING THE ROPE!_

_DON'T!**  
**_

Stella was mid argument with herself in the few seconds it took for her to take the last steps. So it was a very big surprise when the ground suddenly vanished beneath her, and her hands reached out for the dangling rope, grabbing it and releasing it within the space of two seconds. _  
_

Soaring through the air with one swing. It was a wonderful feeling that sent her stomach swooping up into her throat and drop down to her feet at the same time. It made her feel powerful and infinite. Unstoppable. Then came the hard ground beneath her and she somersaulted across the floor to crash in an graceless heap on the floor. She took in a deep breath and stared at the still form of Romanoff (since when did _she_ get over here?) looking down at her, stop watch in her hand. Adrenaline was pumping through her making her limbs shake and tremble. Her heart was hammering in her chest so hard it was hurting.

She'd almost had it. Almost.

But the fear of falling had been too great, the temptation of the rope to much. Her mentor was by her side in an instant, gently yet firmly putting her hands on the girl's shoulders.

"Why do we fall, Coulson?" she asked determined. Stella took several breaths to steady herself.

"So we can learn..." she responded. "So we can learn how to pick ourselves back up." She turned around and looked at the large jump and took a deep breath. "I almost had it, _damn it!_" she shouted and slammed a fist on the ground. "I was _so_ close!"

"You hit fifty seconds though," the Russian said after a brief moment of silence, and Stella looked up in disbelief. The woman smirked. "Yes. Fifty seconds, Stel. Good job." The girl laughed breathlessly and got to her feet to tackle her mentor in a hug, startling the assassin to the point where she felt the pressing need to pry herself free.

"How did you run that fast?!" shouted a voice, and Stella turned around to see Lily moments before she was tackled in a tight embrace. "That was AMAZING, child!" Throat dry, all Stella could do was laugh and duck her head in embarrassment.

"Well, that means that you will be able to go on your first mission tomorrow. I want you to get a good night's sleep tonight, which means no late partying Patrick - " Romanoff ordered, fixing the man with a pointed glare.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he promised, putting an arm around Stella's shoulders. "Now, why don't we go get briefed so we have some time to hang out together after this?"

"Well done, Ms. Coulson," came a different voice, one completely unexpected, and Stella broke free from Patrick and spun around.

"Is that - " Lily began, voice low with awe, but she was cut off by Ian stepping on her foot to shut her up. Simone's eyes were wide with wonder, and Alicia's mouth was slightly open as her mind comprehended the fact that she was looking at Captain America. Only Patrick seemed unfazed by what was going on, giving the man a crooked smile as he propelled Stella forward towards him.

"Captain," she said, voice shaking initially as she shot a glare at Patrick for pushing her.

"How did you do all of that? It was incredible." he asked, offering his hand to her and giving a quick smile when she took it.

"Thank you. I kinda just do," she answered, shaking the adult's hand once before releasing it. "It's sort of instinctive."

"Well, I know how that feels," he said, locking eyes with Romanoff. "But I guess that's also something S.H.I.E.L.D. ingrains into you. The strike without thinking aspect of things." The assassin impassively returned the gaze though there was clearly something hard beneath the surface. "Wouldn't you agree, Romanoff?"

"Is there something we can do for you, Rogers?" came Fury's voice, and Rogers answered without looking at the new comer.

"Yes." He turned around to look at the Director with something akin to anger in his eyes. "I need to talk to you. Now." A muscle tightened in Fury's jaw as he looked at the Russian.

"The briefing packets are in Hill's office. Give them to the team while I talk with Mr. Rogers." With a brief gesture indicating that Steve should follow, the two men left the room.

"What was that all about?" Simone asked as they were leaving the obstacle course. "And did you see that bruise on his face? That must have been one hard hit..." Stella discreetly looked down at her clenched hand.

"Yeah," she agreed. "It must have been." Only Patrick followed her gaze and grasped what had happened. Thankfully though, he didn't make any comment about it.

"And why did he seem so angry? I thought that Steve Rogers was supposed to be calm and collected all of the time," Alicia added, and Lily nodded.

"He did seem a bit on edge..." she agreed and looked at Ian. "Didn't he?"

"He seemed almost pissed off at Fury for something. Something hidden from him or something like that...you know, he also seemed pretty interested in you Stel. I wonder why," the weapons specialist said, and Stella looked up at him.

"So do I," she answered truthfully.

"Why don't Stella and I go wait in her room while you guys go get the materials we'll need from Romanoff," Patrick suggested and the others, after catching the subtle look he gave them all, agreed in mutual silence before moving off down the hall towards Hill's office in the hope of intercepting the assassin. "Come on, Stella. I have some things I want to ask you." Something hard settled in the pit of the girl's stomach.

Soon, she found herself sitting on the edge of her bed with her hands folded on her lap, Patrick beside her. He put a hand over her joined ones and looked at her carefully.

"Are you okay?" Stella looked at him, taken aback.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Don't avoid the question," the man told her seriously and she shrugged.

"I don't know. I guess. Why?"

"You've been different. You've been...almost angry. Almost...eager for violence." Stella stared at the ground before her in stubborn silence that wavered under the steady gaze of the agent next to her. "Say what you need to say," he said gently, and she sighed.

"Maybe I've realized something. Maybe I've decided to confront something that I was running from before. And I want to finish confronting it."

"Loki." Stella looked at him sharply. "I may be a joker, but I'm far from unperceptive. I can tell when someone wants vengeance, and let's just say you haven't been the best at hiding it."

"He killed my dad," she said angrily, turning to face Patrick. "I can't just let that go. I've run from him too long, seen his gold and green armor shining in the corner of my vision too much. I want him to pay. I want him to feel fear when he sees me. I want him to feel anguish. I want him to feel what I did." She swallowed in an attempt to clear her throat. "What I _do_."

"Stella, you need to let it go. You dad was killed and there is no power in the universe that can change that fact."

"I don't have to change it. I just have to make sure that there is a reason I can live with it." The dark haired agent had no response to that.

"Well. Um, about Rogers..." Stella turned bright red. "You punched him, didn't you?" She folded over and rested her head on her knees.

"I didn't mean to, it just...happened," she groaned and, to her surprise, heard Patrick laughing above her. "It's not funny! I punched my dad's idol in the face! Forget that, I punched Captain Steve Rogers - Captain America - in the face! I knocked him over!"

"Wait, what?" Patrick gasped, trying to pull his laughter under control. "You _knocked_ the super soldier over? You?"

"Yeah. I bolted before anything else could happen," she explained, appalled at what she had done.

"You. Knocked over. A super soldier," he said, waiting for her to grasp the import of that fact.

"Yeah, so?" she asked and looked up at him. "What?"

"A super soldier. A _super_ soldier." She shrugged and waited for an explanation. "He can't be knocked over by a simple girl."

"Maybe I'm not so simple as we all originally thought," she said softly, thinking about her grandmother Peggy and Rogers' girlfriend Peggy. "Do you believe in fate, Patrick?" she asked, sitting back up.

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, do you believe in some things existing or falling into place because there is something higher than you...something greater than you...that guides you. It doesn't chose everything for you but points you along the paths. You can follow them or you can run from them." She shook her head and laughed. "Ignore me. I'm babbling like a mad old woman." But in the silence that followed, Patrick looked at her with a new light in the back of his eyes. Pieces were falling rapidly into place, and he wasn't liking the picture it was painting.

"Helloooo my fellow weirdos!" Lily sang as she opened the door to Stella's room with her foot. "Meet our first assignment together!" From her chin to her waist was a tall stack of papers precariously balanced in her arms.

"_Damn_ that's a lot of paper."

"Stella, that's the biggest understatement available," Ian said from behind his stack of papers, which was equally tall as his lover's. "But it's part of the job. Alicia close the door, Simone check the vents and everything for bugs."

"Bugs? In here?" Patrick asked in disbelief. "Come on. It's not like we're in a foreign country or anything. This place is as safe as you can get."

"Standard procedure," the disguise artist said over her shoulder. "_Please_ tell me you follow that rule."

"Well..." he began, and Simone interrupted.

"Oh, Jesus. _Don't_ tell me how many times you've broken standard procedures on second thought: we'd be here all night." They all sat on the floor and distributed the corresponding papers to their agents. "So. Alicia, would you do the honors of revealing our first mission?" The interrogator eagerly leaned forward and smiled.

"We get a fun one this time." She pulled out a picture. "Joseph Wade: drug cartel leader, biochemical scientist, and arms dealer. One of the most wanted on our list for his several successful trials with very deadly biological weapons that we've managed to neutralize. He always managed to slip out of our net, but this time we've found him in Harlem." She looked around at them carefully. "Our orders are to find him and neutralize." A small shiver ran down Stella's spine. "But first, girl...you get a meeting with Stark."

"_Stark_? Why Stark?" The other agents all grinned at each other.

"Well, you need a uniform," Ian said pointedly. "Who better than the arrogant Tony Stark to outfit you?"

This would be good, the girl reflected as they started going through their information, their legends, and their plans.

~'*'~

"What is it Rogers?" Fury asked as they walked into his office, the super soldier nearly slamming the door behind him.

"The Coulson family." A heaviness seemed to settle over the Director.

"What about them?"

"How long have you known that Peggy and I are related to them?" Fury looked up, surprised.

"Now how do you figure that works?" Steve rolled his eyes.

"I'm not an idiot, director. I know family resemblance when I see it. On top of that, a normal girl would not be able to move the way that she does. On top of that, explain to me why she has a grandmother Peggy who looks exactly like Peggy Carter?"

"I know that this seems very coincidental - "

"FURY! I'm not in a gaming mood right now," the war veteran shouted and braced himself on the top of the desk. "Just tell me." His voice had dropped down to its normal tone, and somehow that was more compelling than any level of shouting and threats. "Is Stella Coulson my granddaughter?" The question was earnestly asked, as though the adult feared and yet wanted the answer. The Director eyed him carefully before answering.

"Yes." His already loud and rapid heartbeat seemed to double in both aspects, and the soldier felt the sudden need to sit down, resting his head in his hands as he took in deep breaths. "You going to be okay?" Steve looked up from his hands and nodded.

"Yeah, it's just...wow, uh, I don't know what to say," he laughed, sitting back in the chair. "I have a granddaughter who is...amazing and...and, well, wonderful." He paused momentarily, and a sadder expression crept onto his face. "That would have made Phil my son-in-law."

"Yes." Again that one condemning word. That one liberating word. That one conflicting, problematic syllable.

"Why did you hide it from me?" he asked, looking back at the man behind the desk.

"We felt that it would be best if you didn't know until later."

"What? Until after you've used her for whatever ends you decide are necessary and right? Fury, she's my granddaughter, and I feel responsible for her now! What are you going to be using her for?!"

"Missions. She has the potential to be a great agent."

"You mean assassin."

"I don't pretend to deny it," the S.H.I.E.L.D. member answered evasively. "But the specifics of these missions are classified. As always."

"Yeah, well I'm sure Stark could un-classify it."

"Is that a threat, Rogers?"

"No. It's a warning. I know what happens in this business: people get taken in, chewed up, and spat back out. There's nothing you can say to soften that reality." He stood up and leaned over the desk, eyes flashing something very dangerous, and the director recognized that. "So help me if you get her hurt I will kill you with my bare hands." With that, Steve straightened and turned around, walking for the door. His mind was racing a million miles an hour, thinking about Peggy, about his newfound granddaughter, about Phil and how that man had been his unrealized son-in-law, and -

**SKJ 08U7342**

The numbers flashed behind his eyes just as his hand touched the cold metal. The paper had still been on the desk just then and the numbers had screamed out at him again. But this time he remembered where they were from.

_You were the world's first super hero...honor to meet you. Officially. With everything that's going on, everything that's about to come to light, people might just need a little old fashioned...eyes and ears for us. _

YOU'RE GONNA LOSE.

The numbers had seemed familiar because his _brilliant_ eidetic memory latched onto the most _wonderful_ things sometimes: a name tag from months and months ago when the world had been much simpler. An ID card with the words "LEVEL 7 D.O.B. 7/8/64" on it. And most importantly a _name_.

He released the door knob and turned back around to face the director. There was no sign of his casual tone in his next words: only pure, genuine determination, and not to mention the slightest bit of betrayed anger.

"Where is he?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Enjoy readers! :)**

Stella took a deep breath and tried to stop her bouncing leg as she strapped herself into the seat in the back of the quinjet. She didn't want to appear this nervous around her team, and especially not in front of Romanoff, Barton, Hill, and Fury. It just felt wrong. To prove her point to herself, she subtly surveyed how everyone else was doing. Ian and Alicia were dressed in their S.H.I.E.L.D. wear (which meant Ian was in a suit while Alicia was in her pilot's jumpsuit). They looked pretty relaxed and okay with what was going on, though Ian's tapping fingers showed otherwise. She, Simone and Lily were all dressed like desk secretaries and both of the women looked a bit tense, but not to the extent that Stella did. Taking a deep breath and flexing her left hand she forced herself to relax and finally managed to sit still, earning an side glance from Patrick in his civilian clothing. _Wow, I'd forgotten that he existed_, she thought to herself and smirked. _He's so still and quiet over there at the far end of seats. How on earth does he do that? _He smiled back at her, and she reddened slightly in her nervousness. She thought she heard a small laugh from his general direction, but she couldn't be sure.

Clint would be flying them over to Stark Tower for her outfitting and from there they would briefly review their situation before taking on the mission. It sounded easy enough. It really did.

Then why was she so god damn _nervous_?

_Because you're going to kill someone, maybe?_

_Shut up. I can kill someone _no_ problem. It's what we've been working for. Or rather, I've been working for. You wouldn't have the stomach to kill someone._ That soft voice didn't respond, and she relaxed a little bit. She was getting better. Keeping this soft, sympathetic voice under control wasn't as hard. It made it so much easier to work...no distractions, no hesitations.

"Hey, relax!" She looked up and saw Patrick leaning over so he could look at her. "We were trying to get your attention, you zoned out there and sort of went all rigid."

"Sorry. It happens to me sometimes," she apologized, and Ian frowned.

"Why didn't you bring that up before?" he asked; she shrugged.

"I didn't think it happened anymore," the girl admitted, and Simone looked at her from across the cargo bay.

"What are you thinking about when you zone out like that?"

"Uh..." she trailed off and hesitated. "Stuff. Of a...personal nature?" They stared at her as though they expected her to elaborate. She didn't and sat back heavily in her seat, counting to fifty over and over in her head. This really wasn't going so well.

"Well, let's just make sure you don't freeze like that when it comes to the mission," Patrick joked though there was a thread of seriousness in his voice.

"I won't. I promise," Stella told them and looked straight ahead of herself in an effort to settle her racing nerves. _Yes you will. Shut up! _"I really won't," she added when she noticed them still staring at her.

"You just said shut up for no reason. You okay?" Alicia asked, and she mentally kicked herself.

"Sorry, um, self-dialogue," she said, trying to shrug it off. The rest of the team looked at each other in worry. This wasn't going to go so well...

"Alright fledglings," Barton announced, stepping into the back of the plane and closing the back hatch. "I'm taking you to Stark Tower so the lot of you can go and try to get yourselves killed. From there, I'm going to put up with Stark after the lot of you have committed suicide from hanging out in his general vicinity for too long and try to explain to Fury why the mission wasn't done." Patrick smirked at the agent's dry humor but beyond that seemed to be the only one who shared the jibe.

"Is he really that hard to deal with?" Ian asked, leaning forward. Clint ignored the question until he had taken off and had flown out quite a ways. At that point, he put the plane on autopilot and turned to face the team.

"Well, let me put it to you this way. In the Manhattan battle, I was tempted to 'miss' my target and instead send my arrow plowing into his iron head." Again Patrick smirked, and this time Ian joined in. However, Alicia looked stuck at something that was said.

"His suit is a titanium alloy reinforced with - " Barton fixed a glare on her.

"Now _you _are sounding like Stark," he warned her and she promptly stopped talking. "But seriously. He _can_ be a bit overbearing, and if you're a woman try not to be insulted by what he says half the time." He paused in thought. "Or does..." he added wryly and turned back to the controls.

"Well, _that_ I know about his personality," Simone commented and Lily rolled her eyes.

"The _whole world_ knows that about his personality," she corrected and turned to Stella. "I don't know...I might like to see him try and make a move on Miss Unstoppable here. Might be the last thing he does for a while."

"No, he'll recognize me," Stella responded and elaborated at their curious looks. "He was at my dad's funeral. _Don't_ look awkward at having brought my dad up, please. It only makes the situation weird." At his pilot's seat, Barton nodded to himself. She was growing out of it...the fits and the nightmares. It was a good sign.

"Sorry," Ian muttered and they fell into a busy silence as they all poured over their legends and their briefings. Even Clint was surprised when someone sporadically shifted a stack of papers after hours of silence: he'd forget there were people in there with him. Suddenly, Ian's voice interrupted the prolonged silence with a complaint.

"Why do I have to be a _chauffeur_ for Herring over here!"

"Hey, I didn't ask to be the rising genius Stark needs to get a meeting with!" she protested and then mulled over what she had said for a little. "Although this resumé is pretty badass...I mean, look at all the stuff I've done for the military and for S.H.I.E.L.D. and for the government...I'm basically Stark's rival child!"

"Don't let it get to your head," Patrick warned, flashing her a grin. "This..." he leaned over at took the paper from her, eliciting a playful protest from the disguise master. "...Serena Caulfield doesn't exist. You're Simone Herring, so don't get too full of yourself."

"Oh, never..." she responded with equal informality and snatched her paper back. "But I'll take that back now, thanks."

"Oi, watch it chameleon!" he teased, using his nickname for her position as a taunt.

"Oi, watch it...weapons...person." Alicia snorted in mock derision, and the young woman dropped her head into her hands. "I totally should have come up with something for that...OH! At least I'm not a homeless dude." Patrick glared. "Ha! Got you on that one!"

"I didn't _ask_ for that legend!" he protested with a chagrined smirk.

"Well, suits you well in my opinion," Alicia teased and earned a play swat from across the cargo bay. "So, where do we stand? I'm Madeline Cooper, the personal pilot who flew us to the airport. You're some bum named Ricky we picked up off the street because Shaun the chauffeur hit you with the car on the way over. Stella - I mean Annie - is the undercover bodyguard to Ms. Caulfield, and Samantha (meaning you Lily) is the PA. Remember, we don't talk at all. All conversation stays between Stella, Simone, and Stark. We good?"

"I still think Stark will recognize me," Stella continued, looking worried. "I really don't want to know what'll happen when that happens."

"You'd be surprised," came Barton's voice for the first time in roughly three hours. "You've changed a lot from who you were then. You may not realize it, but everyone else does."

"Anyways, it doesn't matter. He's going to know who you are when he has to outfit you," Lily added, reaching over to put a hand on Stella's shoulder, and earned nods from everyone else. "It won't be that bad, you'll see."

"From what my dad told me about Stark the moment he recognizes me is when things get interesting," the girl groaned and buried her head in her many papers and legend history. This was going to be a bit difficult...

* * *

"Have fun with my prank," Barton commented as the plane finished the landing process, and they all grinned. "This is my _personal_ payback, so Stella?"

"Hm?" she asked, looking over her shoulder as the others were disembarking.

"Please hit him as hard as possible when the time is right."

* * *

"Sir, a Ms. Serena Caulfield is waiting at the front desk. She claims she had a meeting with you at the same time that the S.H.I.E.L.D. team is supposed to arrive, but there is no record - "

"It's alright J.A.R.V.I.S. you can send her up." The billionaire was sitting on his couch, feet propped up on the table, muttering to himself about something being wrong in the story he was writing. "Hey, J.A.R.V.I.S. explain to me - "

"Sir, she's...not alone," came the AI's hesitant voice and Stark looked up from a magazine article he was reading: unsurprisingly it was about himself.

"J.A.R.V.I.S don't ever talk to me when I'm talking. Rude," he ordered in his offhanded way and frowned. "And what do you mean by not alone?" Before the AI could answer, the elevator door - his private elevator, _again_, he noted with annoyance - opened to reveal a crammed interior. "Um - "

"Mr. Stark, the wait at the front desk was absolutely unacceptable!" came a very annoyed, rich and spoiled brat type of voice and Stark stood up to see a young, wiry young woman walking over to him. She was African and she was dressed in a very smart manner, but there was a spring to her step that clearly told the man that he was dealing with someone close to his own type. Not _like _him, no. Because he was Tony Stark, and that meant unique and one of a kind.

"Yeah, and I think it's unacceptable that you have a whole entourage of random people up in my tower without my consent." The woman gave a sort of _like I care_ smile and reached out to shake his hand.

"I never travel anywhere without my support system. This is my personal pilot Cooper, and my PA Samantha - " Alicia and Lily nodded respectively. "Don't mind the vagrant...what was your name?" The homeless man looked up as though startled at being addressed. "Mickey, Rickey? Never mind, doesn't matter. My idiot chauffeur _Shaun_ - " here she indicated him and the young man ducked his head as though in embarrassment - "hit him on the street, he just came up with us because I felt responsible for him. Miss Serena Caulfield." He took her hand and shook it.

"You obviously know who I am, and I...ahem, ah welcome you all here. But, I'm sorry but _that_ is a hygiene problem there - "

"Don't try and drive Mr. Ricky out of here, we have to monitor him for a concussion or any signs of shock. It would raise legal problems if he suffered major medical issues because we neglected to watch him after an accident that was our fault." Stark looked taken aback as he surveyed the woman who had just spoken to him. She was young with brown eyes and short dark brown hair. She seemed almost painfully young to be speaking to him like that. She was clearly well-built, that he could tell easily, which made her probably some form of bodyguard though that seemed a bit -

"I thought staring was rude." He turned a baleful eye on Ms. Caulfield.

"And I thought you were supposed to be nice to your hosts," he retorted, hoping to gain a one up.

"You aren't, and I'm like you. Taste of your own medicine, isn't it?"

"You know...I _don't_ really like you," Stark commented as they advanced into the living room.

"Feeling's mutual," Serena answered without missing a beat and still maintaining that superior, air-headed manner. Stark looked way out of his depth and it was entertaining. "Samantha, take Mr. Ricky downstairs and you and Shaun figure out what to do about reimbursement for his accident. Cooper, go wait by the car. We have a lot to talk about here, and I don't trust this man's valets to monitor my car for any longer than a few seconds." Stark looked as though he was about to comment in defense of his superior valets but instead watched as the lithe young woman he had been watching before stepped forward to stand beside her boss. "I'm sure you don't need to be quite so close, Annie. Mr. Stark isn't going to kill me."

"So that's your name? Annie?" he asked, curious. This was the one that Ms. Caulfield had neglected to identify...it was puzzling and intriguing to say the least.

"Agent works fine for you, Mr. Stark. It's a company policy as a bodyguard," she answered coolly. He pointed at her.

"Now _you_ I like. There's something familiar with a distanced person, wouldn't you agree?" He moved to pour a few glasses of some alcoholic beverage he had behind his counter. "Say, how old are you?" Stella could sense her team's gaze on the back of her head and knew now was time to establish her position so the man would stop flirting with her.

"Too young for you, Mr. Stark." Stark gave a laugh and moved to give her a glass. "I don't drink on the job, and if I did I would be breaking the law. Underage drinking is strictly frowned upon."

"What, so are you twenty then?"

"Nineteen, actually." Stark raised an eyebrow.

"Technically you're a legal citizen, and no one here is really going to care." He turned to Caulfield. "You let a kid guard you? You must either be really confident that no one is going to attack you or hope that she is so slow she get's in the way of any bullets."

"I don't know, Mr. Stark. She can be pretty handy when she needs to be," the woman commented pointedly. "She isn't one to be messed with, and that is why I hired her. Best of her class so I'm assured."

"Oh I'm _sure_. Now, you have to understand that you actually arrived a day early which of course is completely unacceptable because I in fact have a much more important meeting to attend to but for once Cyclops is late, so that's okay. But seriously though. Next time, show up when you indicate that you're going to."

"I'm curious, then why did you accept me?"

"Size up competition," Stark answered as though it were obvious and directed them to the "sitting room" of the tower. "Serena" dropped into a chair while "Annie" and Stark settled onto the couch. And then Tony started talking.

"So, I understand that you are quite a brilliant person. By no means a genius, but pretty smart."

"The clinical definition is genius, Mr. Stark. Much like yourself," Simone answered and the man glared.

"Okay, so what I don't understand is why, if you are so much like me that is, you would bother bringing yourself and this random entourage of people if you ask me, including this delightful young lady here - "

Stella stiffened ever so slightly as the billionaire's arm dropped over her shoulders, and Simone's eyes widened across from her. The woman knew what was coming and she really pitied the man. Actually on second thought, not so much.

There was a strange sense of vertigo as the world spun way out of whack, and Tony found his face nearly plastered onto the ground as someone stood over him and held him pinned there.

"God help you if my dad ever saw you do that," came a voice above him. "Annie" had dropped the soft, controlled speech she had been using and was talking in her normal, more tonally varied voice. "Because you would probably be falling down the Tower."

He made some indecipherable noise, completely confused. He felt her lean down so that she was whispering in his ear. Simone watched in amusement as the billionaire's eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet, running for the nearest bathroom saying something about disinfecting his hands while Stella, blushing furiously, rose and reseated herself on the couch, straightening her crooked clothing.

"What did you tell him?" Simone asked, choking on her laughter.

"Oh, that my dad would have tasered him and then proceeded to watch Super Nanny while he drooled into the carpet." She cleared her throat and slowed her racing heart. "Seems like he held my dad in something of a holy esteem if he felt the need to disinfect his hands." Stark reentered the room and awkwardly sat down beside Stella.

"Um, so you're Agent's daughter?" he asked, and Simone looked at Stella.

"Assuming that Agent is Phil Coulson then yes. I'm Stella Coulson."

"Right, and you're here...why?" Stark asked, brain still trying to process everything that was going on.

"Well, let's see if any of these names ring a bell, shall we?" the girl asked and pointed to the woman across from her. "That's Simone Herring. Alicia Wong is the pilot. Patrick Demos is the homeless guy. Ian Thompson is the chauffeur. And...Lily Reichen is the personal assistant."

"You're the team I'm outfitting?" Tony asked and Stella nodded. He dropped his head into his hands and moaned. "God, I was flirting with _you_?! Wait, you're with S.H.I.E.L.D?! What is going on here, I am so lost - "

"Don't feel so bad about it. She was expecting it," Simone commented and touched her inner ear com. "Guys, come back up."

"I give up. Did Fury put you up to this? Did I finally push enough buttons?"

"No, you pushed enough of Clint's buttons," Stella explained and a light of understanding dawned in their host's eyes.

"Oh...this is his payback for the Legolas comment isn't it?" Then he suddenly looked at her. "Oh, so you two are on first name basis - "

"Watch it," she warned. "If there's one way I'm not like my dad it's that I _can't_ handle people like you with any level of finesse."

Iron Man promptly shut up.

* * *

"Well then, Coulson and company...that feels so weird calling you that, but anyways!" he led the team into his R&D department, and even Patrick and Ian took a moment to look impressed. "Thank you all for changing into your uniforms, by the way...wouldn't have been able to look at _you_ specifically if you were still a homeless man." Patrick looked down at him and raised an eyebrow.

"No problem," he commented in the same manner and stood by the doorway, staring at all the blinking lights and shiny pieces of metal around him.

"How do you have the time to work on all this stuff?" Lily asked, walking farther into the room and examining the items around her.

"He's a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, how do you think he's got time for all this?" Ian asked her sarcastically and she gave him a look. "What?"

"I was asking him," she scolded and the Avenger promptly launched into talking about all of his creations.

"You did well as Ms. Serena Caulfield," Patrick commented lowly to Simone and the woman grinned.

"You have no idea how fun it was to throw him off track like that. God, it was so funny." She looked around. "Hey, where's Stel?"

"Back there, looking at pictures on the wall," he answered, pointing. "Of all the cool stuff in this room, she goes to look at the pictures."

"Well, maybe she finds them interesting," Alicia responded defensively. "You never know."

In fact, Stella was very intrigued by the pictures she was looking at. They were all of the Avengers, and there were even a few with her dad in them. But then, there were some that were old. Like WWII old. And was that...

"Hey, that's my - " she caught herself just in time and changed her words in a slightly garbled way. "That's Steve Rogers...isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah that's Capsicle from way back when...like 70 years ago. That's him with my dad after he was outfitted for the first time. Which brings me to the subject at hand. So, we're outfitting you for what exactly." Stella walked over to the table everyone was gathered around and cleared her throat.

"Well, Romanoff trained me to be an assassin, so I move around _a lot_ - "

"You're a Romanoff assassin?" Tony asked and immediately began sketching ideas onto a small iPad looking thing, except of course it was made by Stark Industries because there was nothing in this man's house that he did not make. "Well then...you'll need stuff that's a light, sturdy material...definitely you'll need some bullet proof armor - ooh! Bullet proof, light fabric...J.A.R.V.I.S. get onto that, will you? Get me some ideas for that." He looked up at the slightly taken aback team before him. "What?"

"You're acting like someone off Project Runway," Lily said, voice breaking in laughter and Ian looked down at her in slight appall.

"You _watch_ that?"

"It has it's moments!" she protested and looked back at Tony. "Carry on, designer Stark." Stark set down his stylus and looked at the group of people trying not to laugh.

"You have got to be the weirdest S.H.I.E.L.D. agents that I have ever seen," he said slowly and Stella smirked.

"We're the misfit people," Alicia explained and leaned on the table. "Go on, continue."

"Um..." Stark trailed off and continued on with his train of thought. "Well, you need something that gives you a lot of movement...but still looks epic and awesome and...OH! I know..." He finished his drawing with a flourish and slid the thin screen across the table top right into Stella's hands. She picked it up and looked down at it, eyebrows shooting up.

"Assassin's Creed." She looked up at him. "A black Assassin's Creed uniform."

"Well, no...it's been simplified, eliminating unnecessary layers of fabric, but keeping enough to make you look cool and - "

"An. Assassin's. Creed. Uniform." Her face was completely deadpan but she was clearly incredulous about everything that was coming out of his mouth.

"What?" he asked as though there was nothing wrong with anything.

"Assassin's. Creed."

"Yes, I got that. Anything else you're stuck at?" She opened her mouth. "Don't say Assassin's Creed again." She closed her mouth. "Well, that's settled. J.A.R.V.I.S. you got anything for me?"

"I have established twenty different fabric alloys - "

"Thanks, J.A.R.V.I.S. just set that up on a projector there and all of you, out, out, out, out, out, out! I need to work, out!" With that, the team found themselves standing out in the hall, staring at each other in silence.

"Well. I think you're going to look amazing" Patrick said, smiling deviously and clapped a hand on the stunned girl's shoulder.

"Assassin's Creed."

Lily lost it and began laughing so hard she nearly fell over, Ian catching her just before she hit the floor. Even Alicia and Simone were trying to hide their laughter and were failing miserably. Only Patrick seemed to be sympathetic to her, and patted her shoulder again.

"You'll look great."

"Assassin's - " she started again helplessly, only to be interrupted by a tearful laughing Lily from somewhere around the height of her knees.

"Yes. We get it." She took in several breaths to steady herself. "This is going to be great."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Enter parentally-worried/paranoid Steve!**

Patrick and Simone exchanged surprised looks while Alicia marveled at the fact that their team member hadn't gotten motion sick yet. Ian sighed in annoyance and handed a grinning Lily her ten bucks as the clock changed from 1:59 pm to 2:00 pm.

Stella had been pacing back and forth before the large wall of glass for the past four hours, fingers by her lips in worry. The girl still wasn't too crazy about the field day Stark seemed to be having in there making this outfit and she was really worried about looking completely over the top and insane in this...costume. It really wasn't a uniform, it was a costume. If there was one way that she was like her dad, it was that Stella didn't like flashy, attention-grabbing outfits. That was why he had walked around in a suit and that had worked out pretty well for him, she reflected. Well, for a while it anyways.

She increased her pace as the security feed whispered in her mind again. She had to keep moving or everything would swamp back on her. She realized that for the first time in a long while, she was inactive and that seemed to be her weakness. Work distracted her, kept the monsters at bay. When she simply walked back and forth like this, Stella noted, she thought of things she rather wouldn't.

Like her dad and Loki.

"Ms. Coulson, Mr. Stark is ready to see you," came the AI's sudden, unexpected voice and she jumped slightly, looking around at her team members.

"Well, get a move on," Ian teased, giving her a gentle nudge, and she elbowed him back before walking into the lab, dreading what she was going to find. Instead, she stopped just inside the doors, letting them close behind her, and gaped.

"What do you think?" Stark asked in a tone that said he would only accept 'it's amazing' as an answer.

"It's...amazing," she said, ignoring the smug look of satisfaction on the billionaire's face.

"Knew you'd like it. So, come on over, let me explain this piece of genius for you. Mind you I wouldn't go through all of this if you were simply a random S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. But Agent's daughter deserves this judging by what Fury just sent me - "

"And _what_ did he just send you?" Stella asked, voice suddenly cold and serious. Surprised by the drastic change in her voice, Stark eyed her curiously.

"You aren't what I thought you were like when I saw you at the funeral, let's leave it at that. Can you beat Rushman by the way?" he asked as he practically dragged her over to stand in front of the suit.

"Rushman?" she asked, confused and Stark waved it aside.

"Natalie, oh what's her face - "

"You mean Romanoff?" Stella asked him, not impressed, and Tony pointed at her.

"Yeah, her."

"She's on your team, _how_ can you not know her na - "

"You can beat her?" he interrupted, overriding her questioning of his selective memory.

"I don't know," she answered evasively, and the billionaire shook his head and dropped an arm around her shoulders.

"Sweetheart..." he began and she stiffened under his touch and the word, "you need to learn to _strut_. You're way too modest for being a kick-ass awesome person. Show it off!" he said with theatricality, swinging his arm out in the manner of a game show host revealing something magnificent and jumped into his description of the suit. "Now, you have the basic lining which is a long sleeve, form-fitting, soft material. It will come to about upper to mid thigh. It definitely won't rip anytime soon and will keep you cool or warm depending on the situation. It also serves as a lining between you and the material that the rest of the suit is made out of." He tossed the black undergarment to the startled girl and she caught it midair, marveling at the strong, soft, yet thin material.

"Is there a place where I can change?" she asked and in response her outfitter pointed to the small curtained off corner of the room. "Seriously?"

"Hey, this isn't normally a beauty parlor!" he retorted and she rolled her eyes, vanishing behind the opaque material and reappearing seconds later in the liner. Tony thought about cat-calling or something flirty like that, but the glare that she gave him and the memory that this was Phil's daughter quickly checked that impulse. "Now, next on top of that is the overcoat thing with a deep hood. It doesn't have sleeves," he explained when she tilted her head to the side in bafflement as he presented the next layer of black clothing. "It just slips over you and then you can pull it tight in the back. Again, light, thin material, except this is made out of very thin, almost threadlike metal mesh. No knife will get through this." Slightly reluctant, Stel allowed him to help her pull it over her head and tie it in the back. The material would have been like a long dress, except two slits ran up the front and the back, creating two separate pieces that covered her legs in the front, sides, and back, but gave her the space needed to run, jump, and do whatever other crazy stuff she did. There would be no problems with keeping her legs free from the restraints of fabric.

"But it's still flexible?" Stella asked curiously as she inspected the knee-length garment. Tony finished tying the back and moved into her line of sight. "I move around a lot as you've probably seen." Stark nodded emphatically.

"Oh I made _sure_ it was flexible. Now, you have these modified cargo pants. I know they aren't as splendid as the rest of what I've made for you, but they serve the purpose. They're made of the same material as the over coat, so you still have some protection there. The pockets give you room to carry around whatever you need to on your missions, but that's what pockets are always for. You'll wear your normal boots, but now I get to outfit you in terms of weapons!"

"Uh, you were only supposed to - "

"I don't listen to Fury," he interjected. "Thought you would appreciate that." Stella tried to glare but found that she couldn't because the man before her was right. She did appreciate that.

"Okay, what have you got?"

"Here's a larger back holster that you may or may not use...I heard you were pretty good with a shotgun, so...I thought why not? I'm working on a sniper version of a shotgun for you, but that will take slightly longer than however many hours I've been working now." Stella slipped it on and tightened it in a practiced motion that made the adult glad that he wouldn't be one of her targets. This girl meant business...it was kind of scary.

"Moving on. This here is a holster that will go on your leg. It can hold two weapons: a gun with a silencer on it and a throwing knife. Thought you would appreciate that, judging by the videos I have of your training." Stella reddened slightly and attached the accessory and looked up to see Tony holding out two arm cuffs to her. One was a dulled metal, the other was a standard, hardened leather brace with a hidden blade on the inside. Keeping with S.H.I.E.L.D. tradition, everything was black, save the metal which was its natural color. Tony fastened the leather one on her left hand and the metal one on her right. However, there was something strange about the metal.

It was a solid metal cuff, and therefore she had expected it to be heavy and cumbersome. However, there was something light about it. It was actually _far_ too light now that she thought about it. Stark smirked and opened one of his drawers to procure a hammer.

"What are - " she began, but before she could continue, the genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist did something that in her mind seemed stupid. He swung the tool full force down on her arm and she prepared herself for the pain that would undoubtedly come and drew her arm back to hit Tony in retaliation. However, nothing happened and she opened her closed eyes to look at the undamaged metal. "What?"

"Decided to make you like cap. That there is vibranium, pure, solid vibranium. I managed to find a little more where my dad couldn't. Figures." He reached around and pulled the final touch off the table and walked around her to tie it across her stomach. It settled right on top of her hips and reached up to end just below her chest. Initially, she thought it would be hard and completely restrict her movement, but she realized that the metal was made just like everything else and allowed amazing mobility.

"Now, I'm not going to swing the hammer at your stomach because that would just look like I was abusing you," Tony said as he turned around and opened another drawer. "But I could shoot you with this, with the barrel right on the plating, and it would flatten the bullet with no trouble for you."

"Yeah right."

"I mean it." Stella raised an eyebrow in disbelief, thinking that the man was bluffing, but when he stepped right up to her and pulled the trigger, she realized that he was dead serious. When she opened her eyes again, she was lying flat on her back and the fabric cover for the metal had a smoking hole in it. But, true to his word, the bullet was flattened on the ground beside her. "Told you." With that he put the gun away and helped the girl to her feet, where she wasted no time in right hooking him so hard that he fell to the ground.

"OW!"

"That's for calling me sweetheart," she said off-handedly, examining the minimal, virtually non-existant, damage done to her armor.

"Oh, and not for shooting you?!" he asked incredulously, standing up and rubbing at the bruise rising on his cheek. She looked at him, a glint in her eyes. "_No_ I'm not inviting you to hit me again! Geez, your dad _never_ would have done that - "

"No, _he_ would have tased you and - "

"Watched Super Nanny while you-I drooled into the carpet," the both finished, and Tony gave her a lopsided grin.

"Yeah, he would have. I see Romanoff has taught you the more direct approach of just socking them in the face." She shrugged.

"It seems to work pretty well for her," Stella admitted and this time she didn't cringe when he put an arm around her shoulders and began guiding her towards the door, only to have it burst open to reveal Steve.

"Tony, there's something that I _really_ have to talk to you about, something I just found ou - " he stopped as he saw who was standing before him and both went red. "Um, uh..." He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hi."

"Captain," she said in greeting, voice flat as she tried to keep all emotion out of it. Tony looked between the two of them.

"Is there something going on here that I don't know about?" No answer. "Helloooo, do I suddenly not exist, what's - "

"_Stella_ _Coulson_ is the client you needed to outfit as an assassin?" Now there was something dangerous to his voice, and Tony nodded eagerly, completely oblivious to the look of borderline outrage on his teammate's face.

"Oh yeah," he began, picking up one of the small portable screens he carried around with him. "You should _see _the videos Fury showed me of her fighting. I'd hate to be anyone that she gets assigned because they don't stand a - "

"Tony can you give us a moment please." There was no room for argument in his voice and, finally noting the angry glares between the two of them, the billionaire immediately left the room, feeling very out of his depth. His discomfort obviously showed in his expression when he joined the agents on the couch, seating himself absentmindedly as though he were a guest and not the owner of the building.

"Something wrong?" Patrick asked and Tony looked at him, seeing the other four waiting for his answer.

"_Yeah_ are those two related or something? Because Rogers seriously went all concerned parent on her when he found out that she was an assassin." Patrick cleared his throat.

"No. Not that I know of. No...they're not related." _They're just _definitely_ related. How, I'm not sure. _Stark gave him a "seriously?" look and the agent tried not to redden as he realized he hadn't been very convincing with what he had just said. "Got a question?"

"Yep, how are you such a bad liar?"

"Excuse you?" he asked, the perfect picture of injured dignity. The man sitting across from him waved it away.

"Never mind."

* * *

"So..."

"So." Her one worded, parroted response finally ticked the super soldier off enough to let loose the torrent of thoughts without much concern as to what was being said.

"Stella, what are you doing?" Steve asked, voice angry. She lifted her hands up to shoulder height.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she responded, voice belligerent. The adult looked to the side and seemed to be conflicted over what to say next.

"You're an assassin."

"Yes," she answered, wanting to get this conversation over with.

"That wasn't a question, that was a statement." She glared and fought the urge to stick her tongue out at him. "What would your dad say if he saw how S.H.I.E.L.D. was exploiting you?!"

"I'm _doing_ my _job!_ And DON'T think you know what my dad would do if he saw this!" she snapped, and the two glared daggers at each other. "You may have just found out that I'm your granddaughter, but that doesn't mean you can just butt in and try to tell me what to do with my life!"

"I might as well seeing that you're going to destroy it!" he chastised, and Stella stormed up so that she was right in front of him.

"I'm doing what's right!" she hissed and he raised an eyebrow.

"And what is that? What are you doing here, Stel?" he asked her again, voice almost pleading with her. She looked at him as though she thought he was crazy.

"I'm an assassin. I'm using my talents for - "

"Let me put it a different way," he interrupted, holding up a hand to stem her flow of words. What she had been saying was a well-oiled excuse, he could see that easily enough. "_Why_ are you here?"

"I'm getting outfitted," she said, purposely misunderstanding his question. At his pointed look, she grew even more frustrated. "Look, just because I may have my own personal interests in this, doesn't mean that I shouldn't be here! In fact, it's _your_ fault that I'm special anyways!" That last part had been low, she knew, but she was in the perfect mood to hurl stuff like that around.

"I didn't _ask_ for the super soldier serum to be passed down!" Steve argued defensively, not liking the turn this conversation was taking.

"Oh, but you couldn't have been _so_ naïve as to think that it wouldn't! _You_ made me the perfect assassin, so don't try and tell me to not use my abilities! Because it's your fault that this is the only way that I can use myself!"

"Are you saying that you wished that you would never have been _born_?"

"It may have been better than this! It may have been better to have _never_ been born, because my life isn't a party, in case you haven't noticed!"

"Stella, I can't allow you to just do this for your own personal vengeance. You can do so much more than just this menial stuff. S.H.I.E.L.D. has been manipulating you - "

"Do you think I don't know that?! Do you _think_ that I want to kill people like Loki killed my dad?! Do you think this has been my life's ambition?! I'm just a victim of the system, and this is my way of dealing with it! So can you please just leave me alone to handle this?!" There was a ringing silence as both realized they had been shouting. Stella backed off and put one hand to her forehead, another resting on her hip. "Patrick, Simone, Lily, Ian, Alicia? You guys can come in, I know you're listening."

"Stark, you too," Steve added, watching her carefully as the door opened, and both were surprised to see that Stark and Patrick were the only ones there. "Oh, um...well then."

"I sent the others into the other room as soon as I heard the shouting," Patrick explained and walked over to stand beside Stella. "Figured you didn't want the whole world to know." Stella sighed in mild frustration and looked down at the ground.

"How long have you known?" she asked, voice defeated and her friend shrugged.

"I had been tossing the idea around for some time now. You kind of gave it away yourselves though the way you act around each other. And, let's face it, you're too good to be simply human," he added with a smirk and Stella reciprocated the expression and laughed lightly. "You look good though. Nice job, Stark."

"_Thank_ you."

"About that - " Steve began, voice sounding like he was about to start lecturing the billionaire, but Tony held up a hand.

"Capsicle, if there's one thing I know about teenagers, especially ones as old as she is - for crying out loud, she's almost twenty, Rogers - you can't change their minds once they're made up on something. And honestly, she'd be a kick-ass assassin." Stella went red and was thankful that her hood was still up to hide her tomato-colored skin.

"I know your dad didn't go around outfitting teenagers, that's for sure." Tony stared at him with a not-amused expression.

"In case you haven't noticed, I make a point to not be like my dad."

"Really? Because you're basically a mini Howard Stark. Rude, arrogant, self-obsessed - "

"I think we get the picture," came a new voice and they looked over their shoulders to see Ian, Lily, Alicia, and Simone standing in the doorway. "You look good, Stel!" Alicia continued and their assassin grinned though they couldn't see it below the shadows.

"The real question is, can you still move in it?" Ian asked and Patrick immediately backed up to give her some room.

"What do you expect me to do?" the girl asked, amused, and looked over her shoulder at Patrick. There was a devilish grin on his face, and she dreaded what he would end up saying next.

"Why don't you do a bout with him?" he asked, pointing at the Star Spangled Man with a Plan. "Think of it as bonding time," he added in an undertone. Both looked at the agent horrified.

"No, that's not a good idea - " Stella began, hurriedly.

"_Really_ not a good idea," Steve agreed and both looked at each other again. "I wouldn't want to hurt her." Stella pushed back her hood to reveal the affronted expression on her face.

"_Excuse_ _me?_ I was worried about hurting _you!_" Steve frowned.

"I don't think you would be able to drastically hurt me, Ms. Couls - "

"Oh, you would be surprised," she retorted, perfect image of injured pride. "I can pack a pretty solid punch."

"I don't doubt it, you've hit me once before, remember?"

"I _warned_ you that time," she protested. Before either could continue their argument, Tony broke in.

"Oh, come on and punch each other already. You fight like an old married couple."

"TONY!" the two super soldiers shouted in unison, disgusted expressions on their faces.

"Let's not even go _there_," Stella continued and shuddered. "Yeah, _there_ doesn't even exist! That's just _wrong_ in _so_ many ways."

"What cause that would make him something like a...I don't know what would that even be?" Patrick asked and Stella became alarmed when she saw that he was actually giving it considerable thought. Steve looked ready to jump out the nearest window and everyone else was beginning to look increasingly curious about what was going on.

"I SAID CAN WE NOT GO THERE?!"

* * *

"I still think that Captain Rogers would have been a better sparring partner."

"Your _face_ served well enough." Patrick threw her a baleful look.

"Yeah, I can _feel_ that," he said over the noise of the quinjet as it took off while the back was still in the process of closing. Stella looked around at the rising bruise under his eye and shrugged. "How did you even kick me in the head while I was standing _behind_ you?!"

"You had it coming." She sat back comfortably in her new uniform and heaved a contented sigh. She was ready to take on whatever this mission threw at her. But something that Steve had been saying stuck in her mind.

_Tony, there is something really important that I need to talk to you about, something I just found out._

What was it? she wondered idly but soon turned back to the situation at hand: running over their plan of attack for about the bijillionth time. Fun new word...she added as an aside while she chewed on her finger nail. This was going to be a bit difficult...

* * *

"Director Fury, we have a problem down in the hospital wing." Fury heaved a sigh and looked up at a frazzled looking Doctor Jones.

"Stark?" he asked as though he expected nothing more or less.

"Not just him sir..." she answered reluctantly after a few seconds hesitation. "It's..._all_ of them. Sir," the doctor added, title more of an afterthought than anything else. Fury threw down his paper work and sprinted for the stairwell, pushing by startled agents and assistants to get to the hidden medical bay. Instead of following him though, Jones quickly stepped behind the desk and pulled out a flash-drive, sticking it into the monitor. She didn't bother trying to steady her trembling hands as she entered the pass-codes to break through the many layers of encryption. Having a nervous breakdown would do little to help her: she estimated that she had roughly two minutes before Hill or Fury himself came back to the room.

She only hoped she could find the right files by then.


	17. Chapter 17

Her heart hammered painfully in her chest as she hurried to look through the many files in the Director's computer. There was something growing in the pit of her stomach, something that told her she should stop, that she should get out while she still could. _Quiet...focus, focus, focus, focus!_ she hissed, and she pushed on, looking up at the door every five seconds as though waiting for someone to come bursting in. Finally, with a smile of triumph, the doctor pulled up a file that had been buried at the very bottom of the encryption layers, labelled _Nightmare_. Fingers fumbling slightly over the mouse, she clicked on it, dragging the folder over to the flash drive's icon on the desktop.

_Thirty seconds left._ The screen stared at her and she stared back, nervousness starting to dissipate. Thirty seconds was okay. She could do thirty seconds. It wasn't that bad, Jones told herself as her fingers lightly tapped a nervous pattern on the mouse. Thirty seconds left.

Thirty seconds too long. She looked up, carefully masking her startlement as Hill stepped into the room.

"Something wrong, Doctor?" she asked in her stoic manner.

"No, ma'am. I was just sending a report off. It was over due," the lab coat clad woman explained, impressing herself at how even she was managing to keep her voice. Hill nodded, eyeing the other person in the room carefully.

"Did you need something else?" the agent asked, voice stiff. Jones feigned bafflement, frowning slightly and tilting her head slightly to the side in question.

"Beg pardon?" Hill raised an eyebrow.

"Did you need something else in Director Fury's office?" she asked again, voice much colder now and Jones shook her head.

"No, I was just logging off," she answered, lying effortlessly and moved the mouse forward to click on the home button and log off. As she moved her hand away from the keyboard, her fingers snagged the USB drive and pulled it from its port. She offered a quick smile and rose, slipping the small plastic bit into the cuff of her lab coat before leaving the room, heart hammering so loudly that the scientist swore that it could be heard throughout the base. But she managed to get by Hill and out the door without running for her life.

Once she was in the clear though, she ran. She couldn't help it; the façade of outer cool that she had been maintaining fell away, and she ran.

Inside the office, Hill waited roughly five seconds after the door had closed behind her to hurry over to the desk, clicking the mouse and hitting the space bar in an impatient attempt to get the screen saver to vanish and the log in menu to appear. She clicked on the director's logo and entered the passcode she knew by heart, feeling her gut clench as she saw the small notification window flashing in the middle of the screen.

_Item not ejected properly._

"What were you doing..." she breathed and clicked on a small discreet icon in the bottom corner of the monitor, another window popping up. Eyes skimming what was before her, Hill scrolled through the most recently accessed files and stood up sharply, closing all of the windows and logging off in a hurried pressing and clicking of keys.

"Damn it, Jones," she hissed before sprinting out of the door.

She had a doctor to catch.

~'*'~

Jones was starting to run out of breath by the time that she reached the side door leading to the unknown medical bay, rapidly typing in the password with one hand while her other tightly clenched about the small USB. _I shouldn't be doing this...I shouldn't be doing this..._she thought to herself, panicked.

"MOVE!" a voice shouted, and she looked over her shoulder to see Hill running down the hall, not looking pleased in the least. The console beeped and opened, the woman squeezing through the barely opened door before slamming it shut, slouching with relief and then starting as the Director's assistant body-slammed the door. But soon, she calmed down.

Without the passcode, there was no way Agent Maria Hill was getting through that door. However, when she turned around, she found herself standing face to face with Director Fury.

This wasn't good.

"Something wrong doctor?" he asked, eyeing her with that same guarded expression Hill had used.

"There may have been a potential breakthrough with Coulson's condition. I need to get to his room immediately." That lie would come back to get her, she knew, when the man before her found out about it. But for the moment it served the purpose she had intended it for, and Fury stepped aside to give her room to run down the hall, punching in the passwords as though her life depended on it. By the sound of raised voices arguing by the entrance she had just come through, it probably did.

~'*'~

"I can't believe that he would keep this secret from us!"

"Look, Tony, you can't really expect everything that SHIELD does to become common knowledge," Romanoff offered half-heartedly, but her defense was a very weak one.

"You know that they should have told us about this. You _know_ that!" he hissed, jabbing a finger into the assassin's chest. "Why didn't they tell _you_? Why didn't they tell _us_?!"

"Look, Tony, you need to calm down," Steve interrupted, voice firm and pulled the man around to face him. "If not for our sakes, for Banner's." The billionaire looked over his shoulder at the radiologist seated next to Phil's bedside, hands clenched so tightly before him that his knuckles were white. "He's really wired tight right now. If you can't pull yourself under control for the rest of us, pull yourself under control for him. We don't need him going all Hulk on us," he added in an undertone. But the genius didn't register what was being said and instead continued on with his previous train of thought.

"This is _Coulson_ we're talking about. He...you can't just..."

"Tony, we know this hurts. It hurts all of us," a new voice said and they looked around to see Clint standing in the doorway. "I tried to get into contact with Thor through Jane Foster, but he's not with her. We have no way to contact Asgard, so he's not going know about this until much later."

"Fury...had better have...a _very _good explanation for this," Bruce growled, and the radiologist ground the heels of his palms into his forehead, trying to drive away the green swirling in the corners of his vision.

"Take it easy, Banner," Romanoff said softly and knelt by the stressed scientist, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. "It's gonna work out."

"Do you know that?!" he snapped and the Russian started, pulling away slightly with a guarded expression. "Do you?!" His voice was nothing more than an angry hiss. Nat was spared responding when an out of breath doctor slipped into the room and thrust her hand out to Stark.

"You're welcome!" she said bitterly and dropped the flash drive in his waiting hand. "You're doing that on your own next time. Hill's going to be in here at any moment and if you don't stand up for me, I'm going to get sacked. And then killed. So help me god if you just stand there..."

"Why thank you Doctor Jones," Stark said, sugar coating his voice and he pocketed the small piece of plastic, before pulling out his phone. "JARVIS, you all ready buddy? Let's see what we have here. Coma...unresponsive..._degrading - _his condition is_ degrading_ and you've done _nothing!_" Jones started and seemed to take a half step back towards the door.

"It's not our fault. We can't _do _anything. We have no idea what's killing him in the first place, let alone what's keeping him alive!" she responded, voice heated and defensive. "And did you hack into our mainframe _again_?!" He threw her a look that clearly stated that she was quite dim before turning back to the

"We need Thor," Steve said simply and Clint looked over at him.

"You think he might know what's going on?"

"Well, he was stabbed with a Tesseract powered weapon...from what I gathered, he knows a lot about the Tesseract. He would at least know where to start."

"No offense to him, Steve, but Thor's a soldier. He's not a medicine man," Romanoff countered. "He might know what the Tesseract does, but he won't know anything about this."

"Do you know that? I still think we should try and get in contact with Thor, he might know someone else who could help. Tony, you've been working with Selvig on a way to get across to other realms, right?" Jones, Romanoff, and Barton immediately looked to Tony, warning expressions on their faces.

"A word, Mr. Stark," the Russian said curtly before grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the room, Clint and the doctor following close behind them.

"What was that about?" Steve asked in the silence that stretched out afterwards, but Banner didn't answer. Instead, he got to his feet and marched out of the room, sending interns running for their lives when they saw the green in his eyes and neck.

~'*'~

"What are you doing, Tony?" Romanoff asked, looking rather pissed off. "The whole point - " She stopped and waited for Banner to move out of earshot as he stormed out of the room. "The whole point of bringing you in on the Trans-galactic project was for you to bring your genius and keep. Your. Mouth. Shut!" Stark raised his hands to shoulder height in an almost sassily defensive posture.

"I'm not going to just help you out without first knowing _why_ the hell I'm helping you out! You haven't told me everything. I want to know everything."

"Yeah, and I want to be a millionaire and live away on a mountaintop in utter seclusion without SHIELD ever knowing where I am," Barton answered sarcastically. "You can't know everything, Tony. It's classified. Even for us," he added reluctantly.

"Oh and since when has keeping classified matter from him had any point?" Jones asked in a similar tone. "He just hacks into everything anyways."

"And you help him," Romanoff responded, voice hard. "What was on that flash drive?" The doctor looked away. "Doctor Sarah Jones, what was on the flash drive?"

"I don't think it's right...what you're using Stella Coulson for," she began and both agents' expressions became guarded. "You're going to get her killed, and there is no way in the universe that I'm going to be a part of that. SHIELD lost my respect the moment that they started training little girls to become assassins. The moment they started turning innocent recruits into people like _you_." She emphasized the last part of her sentence with a point at Nat. "You should know better, Romanoff. You should know better. I was tired of being like Stark. I was tired of working in the dark on this, condemning a child to who knows what. So he now has every single file on someone called 'Nightmare.' Does the name ring a bell?" Her voice was cold and challenging.

"Jones, you can't do that," Clint hissed, grabbing her arm tightly.

"I just did. And Stark can take that USB port and publish it for the world to see for all I care!" With that, she turned around and was about to walk away when Fury marched into the room, not looking pleased in the slightest. Apparently he had been able to keep Hill out under some pretext of classification. "Stark..." she said, voice tinged with a hint of begging, and the billionaire walked forward.

"Don't worry, Jones. I've got this."

"Mr. Stark, if you're responsible for driving my own medical staff to steal classified files - "

"You're very welcome, Cyclops. Now, can we talk about Stella Coulson, please? I really don't think that Agent will like what you've done to her. Sending her off to the far reaches of the world to kill without question? To do all of your dirty work that you're too scared to do yourself?"

"He'll never find out about it," the Director responded, voice neutral. "That's why there's no point in having this conversation."

"Oh, and why is that? Why will he never find out?" Tony asked, getting up in the taller man's face. "Is she gonna be _dead_ by then? Are you going to make sure she's gone, _silence_ her, so all you have to do is spin a lie to your best friend about the fate of his own daughter? Or..." he pulled out his phone and scrolled through a few things, "baby squirrel as I believe he calls her?" Fury was looking increasingly uncomfortable. "You make me sick, Director."

Whatever he had been going to say was cut off as alarms began going off from the room next to them and Jones practically kicked open the door, shouting for a medical team.

~'*'~

Rogers sighed and walked over to sit where Banner had been sitting. This was especially hard for him, he reflected...probably more so than the others, because this was family. This was family lying there, wasting away. Releasing a shaky breath, the super soldier reached out and grabbed the thin, emaciated hand in his own, trying to give the man some form of comfort.

"I guess you're my son-in-law," he randomly began and laughed at the idea. "Yeah, uh, your wife is my daughter. Funny thing is, I thought you would have known that about her before you went and married her..." His wondering expression soon turned almost reprimanding. "Philip Coulson if I find out that was _why_ you married her, I'm disowning you." But his playful threat fell on deaf ears, the only response the continued beeping of the monitors. "That means that...that Stella is my granddaughter, you know. And I promise you this: I'm gonna watch out for her. I'm going to try and preserve what I can of her from Fury." He felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and he had to clear his throat a few times. "He made her an assassin. And I'm almost scared to think about what she'll be by the time you wake up. No man deserves to wake up to find that their baby girl is a monster. Definitely not you. I have a feeling, god I hope I'm wrong, but I have a feeling that they're going to use her for something terrible. They're going to use her to kill someone big...I don't know who yet, but they're going to."

That was when alarms started wailing and the heartbeat monitor flatlined.

He vaguely heard the door open behind him and the room was filled with loud voices and he felt himself guided up out of the chair and over to the wall. He felt numb as he watched Jones pull out several syringes of various fluids and shuddered as she injected them quickly into the dying man's system. More nurses flooded the room and Romanoff suddenly appeared by Steve's side, sitting on the ground beside him - when had he ended up on the floor? - and rubbing small circles into his back.

"Come on, come on, Coulson!" they heard Jones saying, but both of their eyes were fixed on the blue line that continued on, unwavering. Nat bowed her head on her knees and soon Clint was by their side, holding her close as she cried. "Time of death - "

"WAIT!" a voice shouted and everyone looked around at Bruce where he stood in the doorway, looking ready to kill someone. "Back off!" The radiologist practically pushed the medical staff out of the way with green tinted hands. He swung the monitor around to face him, quickly "tapping" on the screen, though it could have been better described as pounding, and pressing buttons to sift through the data they had been recording. Finally, he stopped and sat back on the bed, expression worn. "Thought so..."

"What is it?"

"There's going to be no time of death. Not right now, not ever." Jones frowned and shooed the other medics from the room before turning back to the scientist, wanting an explanation. Instead, Bruce stared back at the wall, a sad expression in his eyes, vague tears shining behind his glasses. "Three, two, one..."

_Beep...beep...beep...beep...beep..._

Jones frowned and moved over to look at the monitor and put her two fingers on Coulson's carotid artery.

"That's not possible..." she began, looking around at the stunned avengers and knowing Dr. Banner. "He was dead for several _minutes_."

"Coulson has been dead for a long time. You know, for claiming to be so advanced, SHIELD can be rather blind at times." He got to his feet and pulled up the same images and data tables he had been looking at. "You see that? Even I can tell that's not a human's brain pattern. That's not even a brain pattern, first off-" Tony walked over to take a closer look, casting a thankful glance at the comatose agent.

"That's the tesseract's electric pulsation pattern," he commented and Bruce nodded.

"Exactly."

"So...you're saying that this is possession?" Jones asked, frowning as she looked between her patient and her instruments.

"That's a bit of an archaic term, but essentially yes," Banner responded as Tony approached, putting his hand on the scientist's shoulder.

"Why don't you get out of here? You're about to lose it - " But Bruce cut him off and shook his head.

"Not anymore. I just want to help him now." He looked around at Jones and Fury. "Give me everything you have on his situation. I've got a lot of catching up to do." He was about to leave the room when he stopped by Fury's side. "You hide anything else from us...I'll be sure that there's nothing left for anyone to find of you. _Ever."_

"I'll bear that in mind," the man answered and stepped aside to let the riled radiologist and Tony follow Jones out of the pristine bedroom to their diagnostics room. They had a lot to do. When Fury turned around, it was to see an angry super soldier glaring at him. And that expression made him very, very worried for his safety.

That glare was delivered in very much the same manner as his currently deployed assassin.

~'*'~

The night air was heavy and humid, tension and an inexplicable sense of foreboding. High above the world and the derelict looking warehouse a small dot seemed to circle like a vulture, passing alternatively through the cover of the low hanging clouds into the muggy sky. To the human eye, it appeared to be nothing more or less than a bird lazily riding the currents. However, it was anything but.

"We've got to drop now. This is our window!" Alicia called, setting the plane on automatic, inputting the coordinates for the nearest SHIELD headquarters. As soon as she stepped out of the pilot's seat, she caught the parachute Simone threw at her, grinning. Everyone else was suited up, waiting. Stella, understandably, looked very nervous, fingers drumming on her leg incessantly. They all moved to the now open back and lined up on the very edge of the loading ramp.

"Lily, Ian, you guys go first. Alicia and Simone, you two'll go in the middle, Stel and I will bring up the rear," Patrick said into his headset over the roar of the wind and the other nodded their agreement. "Remember, we have small, set targets, so you need to aim carefully." They silently nodded. "Alright. Lily, Ian, you're up." The couple flashed quick grins before jumping out in perfect synchronization, vanishing into the gloom below. Stella shuddered imperceptibly and shifter her feet.

"Can't say I like the look of that," Simone joked before looking briefly at her watch. "Alicia, time to go," she said and in the blink of an eye, they dropped out of sight as well, the fear building in the young girl's stomach reaching a peak point. Patrick looked down at Stella and saw the heavy breathing, the scared stance that she had been trying so hard to conceal.

"Hey," he said, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. "We can jump together, okay?" She nodded and moved into position, facing him and placing her hands on his shoulder, fists grabbing the fabric in large knots. He did the same, offering his goofy, disarming smile. "Ready?"

"Just do it," she answered tightly, but Patrick waited for her to compose herself. "Now or never, eh?" she joked and the two of them jumped, the wind seemingly sucking them down to what the girl couldn't help but see as a definite doom that was inescapable.  
"Hey, ease up!" she heard Patrick's voice laugh in her ear. "I'm losing feeling in my shoulders!" In her horror at the aspect of causing Patrick discomfort, the girl instinctively let go and her companion pushed away from her, laughing as she realized that she was free-falling on her own. "You've got this, just - "

"You can't tell me not to look down!" she practically screamed back at him. "You know I hate jumping!"

"Well, unfortunately that's how we do everything," he responded, sarcastically. "Now, watch the ground. Your landing point is over down there; sorry it's so small. It's the only place that had a blind spot in terms of radar that still gave us a place to land."

"You mean that tiny little crow's nest looking thing? IT'S PUNY!"

"Yep. Just think of it as a training exercise. You've got this." Stella bit the inside of her cheek as she watched Patrick pull away, becoming nearly invisible in the dark, and she pulled her parachute, the transparent material billowing out behind her with enough force that it made her body rock and bend in an almost unnatural manner as it responded to the sudden slow of movement. Barely daring to breath, she guided herself over to her destination and, when she was ten feet from it, unbuckled the chute. As she fell, she judged distances and positioning and nearly sighed with relief as her booted feet hit the metal circle around the radio antenna and her left hand wrapped around the metal pole, leaving her standing there like a strange sort of gargoyle.

"This is Coulson, I've landed," she whispered and immediately dropped to a crouch as she saw the top of on of the sentries' heads as they went on their routine patrols along the perimeter of the building, orderly marching along the balcony. She looked around and watched as Patrick drifted out of sight on to the top of the building across from her.

"This is Lily; Ian and I have landed," came the spritely voice in Stella's ear and the assassin looked around to face where she knew the two would be: waiting in the shadows behind the electrical box, ready to wreak havoc and get them some tech support.

"This is Simone. Alicia and I are in position." Coulson looked around to the small security station closer to the outskirts of the warehouse and could faintly make out the forms of two black clad agents crouched on the top of the small building. They were ready to take over the security cameras, she told herself. This would all go according to plan. "Patrick, waiting for your order," Simone continued.

"Alright, let's get this done. I want to be home before midnight," Patrick's voice came after about a minute of silence. "Nightmare, you're up. There's a routine patrol coming around in about a minute. I want you to drop down and neutralize." Stella nodded and in an instant, the girl was gone, replaced by the machine. Nightmare reached to the hood resting on her shoulders, grabbed the edges, and in one fluid motion flipped it up over her head and jumped down onto the wrap around balcony, slipping effortlessly into the shadows as she watched the oblivious sentry walk almost leisurely before her, impervious of his impending doom.

"Are you ready?" she muttered, voice pitched so low that it was nearly inaudible, and in the security room, Simone sighed contentedly, stepping away from the fallen bodies before her.

"Yeah, we're working on it. Just a sec," she answered, stepping around them to sit down and start sifting through the various feeds, playing around with the controls in an effort to understand how to control each of the cameras and move them separately. Alicia stepped over to the door, pulling out her gun and taking a guard position as she watched the outside world through the one way glass.

"Lily, Ian you two ready?" the pilot asked, voice slightly tense as the gravity of their situation grew on them. The interrogator fought the urge to ask again. She knew that these things took time, but it didn't mean she had to like the radio silence.

"Jus' a sec'nd," came Ian's slightly slurred voice as he spoke through a mouth full of wire fragments. "Al'mos' th'r." Lily pulled out several more wires, retwisting them and then reconnecting them. She frowned and looked down at her lover.

"Are you sure you should have those in your mouth?" she asked, but Ian interrupted her with a silent gesture of celebration as he threw his hands up in the air.

"Alright, we are live, repeat, we are live. I have access to the feeds and the building layout; Stel I can walk you through everything now. Simone, you ready?" he asked as he got to his feet and pulled Lily into the alcove they had been hiding in before after carefully closing the electrical box once more.

"Absolutely," the disguise artist responded as she finished up a few lines of code. "We're all set up and ready to go." Nightmare stepped out of the shadows and walked behind the man, matching his step and walk as she took stock of her prey. He was armed with the standard AR-15 rifle, that wouldn't be too much of a problem. He wore some sort of vague security guard uniform and his step showed some sort of sloppiness as did his hold on his weapon. Cheap recruit to put up an impressive façade, the assassin decided.

_You're big, You're brawny, but you're also quite inexperienced and dim, _she narrated to herself, a ghost of a smirk touching her lips. She made her move.

The sentry never saw his death coming until the gloved hand crossed over his face, and he felt his head twisted around. Then, it was simply darkness and...well...nothing.

Stella stepped over the corpse and seemed to melt right back into the shadows as she heard approaching footsteps.

"Good work, Coulson. I'm making my way over now," Patrick said and tried to push away the disturbed feeling in the pit of his stomach at the nonchalant way their young friend was behaving and going about her work.

"Now, remember: this is the most important part. You need to kill them before they see what's going on and raise the alarm, you got it?" came Alicia's voice over Stella's comm and in response, the rest of the team watched through their small screens and over the distance as the terrible scene unfolded before them.


	18. Chapter 18

**ENJOY MY DEAR READERS! PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW ON YOUR WAY OUT! :)**

The second round of the sentry patrols was obviously starting, Nightmare reflected as she stood stock still. Another man was tromping up the steps, making no move to be quiet or discrete about anything. But just when she thought she could handle this, four more men came up behind him. And these men looked like they knew what they were doing.

The leader froze as he saw the dead man before him and immediately reached down to grab his walkie talkie from his belt. The guards started as a shadow seemed to peel away from the wall, and Stella swung her heavy boot into the man's neck, collapsing his trachea and breaking the spine. He fell to the ground, making feeble movements with his hands before he fell still, life fading. As the rest of the guard stood there, stunned, Nightmare decided that they weren't much better in terms of intellect than her first victim and she ran at them, kicking another in the throat as well and throwing her knife into the chest of the man beside him. Startled and still frozen by shock, she grabbed the head of one of the guards and twisted it to the side, farther than it should be able to go and she let him drop with a soft thud to the ground. The last man pulled out a switchblade and thrust forward at her stomach with impressive force but opened his mouth in a silent cry of pain as the thrust went no where and instead painfully jarred and paralyzed his wrist. Stella grabbed his wrist twisted his arm and stepped behind him, clapping a hand over his mouth to cut off any cry of pain or fear, before twisting the head around to the side. _Back and to the left, back and to the left,_ she recited and let that body slip down to the ground as well.

In the security room, Simone shivered and put a hand over her mouth. Ten seconds. In ten seconds, four men had been dropped without any sort of preamble or conclusion. No finese. Just dropped them. She couldn't hold back a start as the dark hood turned to face the camera; this wasn't Stella anymore. This was Nightmare. This was the assassin.

"Alright then," Ian said, voice unsteady as he surveyed her work. "Walk down the balcony. Leave the bodies there, Patrick's coming behind you to take care of that mess. You just focus on getting inside, finding Joseph Wade, and getting rid of him. Oh and please try not to get infected with any drugs or deadly biological weapons. That would complicat - STEL - "

The assassin pivoted around and stabbed with her hidden blade, the guard's face crumpling in pain as he slid off the knife and fell to the floor. But before he could do anything else, Stella drew her silenced handgun as though she were in a western quick draw, and pulled the trigger, leaving the man to bleed out from the bullet wound to his head.

Eight seconds, Simone noted and shivered again.

"She's too good," Alicia muttered, taking her headset off and looking at Simone. The African woman looked torn. "She's _too good_ Sim, and I don't mean that in a good way. _Too good_."

"Well, we need her," Simone responded, voice tight. It was obvious she shared her teammate's discomfort. "As scary as that was, we need her."

"Don't talk about me like I can't hear," came a stoic, dead voice and the two women looked at each other, subconsciously agreeing that this might become a problem. "And by the way, I knew that man was there."

"Stel, we're here to help you out," Ian's voice said slightly annoyed. "If we warn you about people, don't get aggravated with us. We don't need you bleeding out on us out there if we don't warn you and someone gets you."

"Just...if you know they're there, Stel, ignore us. If you don't know they're there, listen to us," Lily said placatingly. "Patrick, where are you?"

"Making my way over. You still have control over the electrical?"

"You need to ask?" Lily responded, peeved. "You need a gate opened?"

"7A."

"_7A?! _You're that far already?!" Ian asked, voice jumping slightly. "Wow, you're good."

"Not as good as Coulson," he said and slipped through the barely opened gate before running to the nearest elevator. "Elevator C3." The doors slipped open and Patrick stepped in, pulling out a small screen and entering a passcode. "I'm on you Coulson, I've got your visual. You can proceed."

"Acknowledged," she responded, walking to the edge of the balcony, climbing onto the edge, and swinging over it to land on the balcony below. She landed in a crouch, rising and pivoting to face the spooked sentry before her. She drew her gun again and fired, slipping it back into its holster with her right hand, pulling out and throwing her knife into the heart of the second man with her left hand. She reached down and pulled the man's ID card off his jacket and turned to face the door, pulling the knife from the corpse as she did so; she slipped the card through the card swipe and stepped into the room, flitting through the dark as she travelled in the shadows.

"Stella, find somewhere you can hide and wait there!" Patrick's voice came. "I'm too far behind you, you need to slow down."

"I've got a clear coast right now, I need to keep moving," came the automated voice and Patrick shook his head.

"Ian, please explain to her - "

"Stella, I've got on my screen right here that you're going to be walking into what looks to be a larger room. We don't know what's in there, you're going to need back up."

"I can handle it."

"Stella, your suit is strong it won't withstand machine gun fire from at least twenty guns simultaneously!" Alicia snapped and Stella opened a closet door and slipped in.

"Look, can you guys just let me work?!" she cried exasperated. "I'm trying to do what I'm trained to do here. that means moving quickly before people catch on that they've been infiltrated. If it gets too hot, I'll pull out. Alright?" there was silence.

"Let her work, guys," Simone finally said. "Let her do what she's best at." Stella opened the door of the closet swiftly and hard, eliciting a cry of pain from the person she had intentionally slammed the door into. She swept out from behind the heavy metal, punching the man in the nose and slamming her knee into his stomach before throwing him into the wall. Every punch, every kick, every hit was delivered with the full force of her super soldier strength. Her attacks left internal damage, and she knew it. She briefly looked down at the body and saw that he was wearing a medical coat. Discarding the guard's ID card, she bent down and picked up the doctor's, walking to the door and swiping the card and slipping into the room. Her gut clenched and she ghosted up the piping on the wall to hide in the rafters of the warehouse.

This had to be their testing grounds for their biological weaponry, she decided. There were hospital beds upon hospital beds in there and each of the beds' inhabitants seemed to be ill or deformed in some way.

"This is Coulson. I've found their testing room for their biological weaponry development, and probably their drugs as well. They've got people down here...they're all plugged into various drugs and gases; probably kidnapping victims...I still have no sign of Wade though."

"Ian, how do we get down into there?" Alicia asked. "Simone, you found anything?"

"Well, we do have the ventilation shafts on the roof," the woman commented and Ian seized her train of thought immediately.

"Patrick, can you get up there? We don't want to risk sending anyone else through the door now that Coulson's adequately made that a trap."

"I was doing my _job_ - " Lily interrupted the indignant protest.

"And you did a fine job of it, just focus on what's at hand. Look for Wade. Is he in there?" Stella's eyes roved the beds and the nurses. She looked around as she heard a vent opening above her and tapped one of the pipes she was standing on to get Patrick's attention. The man crept over, balanced precariously and looking like he would rather have both feet firmly on the ground.

"How do you look so relaxed like that?" he asked but she just shrugged.

"I climbed a lot of trees when I was little," she responded, off-handed.

"That's great, you two. Focus on Wade," Ian chastised and Patrick rolled his eyes, offering a smile to Stella. But there was no cracking her shell, that mask she had put on. It made even him feel a little depressed. "Do you see him?" Patrick looked at the milling people and sighed.

"I don't - "

"There." Stella pointed a black clad arm to a far bed in the corner. "That's him. That's him, I'm sure of it." And before any of them could say anything, Stella was vaulting over the pipes like a spider, or more like a wraith, to perch high above the man's head. But just as she was about to pull out her gun, aim, and pull the trigger, she stopped.

Her eyes were locked on the person strapped to the bed. It was a girl around her age; her form had obviously been thin to start with, but by now it was plain emaciated. The skin, which had also been rather pale, was white, a white that was wrong, that was dead. The blue eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling, fogged over by drugs, noxious chemicals, or something even more permanent that Stella didn't want to think about. The light blonde hair which had always been straightened and neat was now disheveled, ratty, and dirty. But under all the trauma, Stella was able to recognize her.

"Casey?" she whispered, voice broken and unsteady, normal again.

"Stella, what's going on?" Patrick asked. "Stella, Wade's getting away!" Anger was burning inside Stella's chest as she looked down at her classmate. Her mother had told her that Casey had gone missing...now she knew where she had been. "Stella - _great_. Wade just went up the elevator."

"Stella, what's - Patrick, she's frozen, you need to go over. I think she's had one of those episodes," Alicia said, looking at the feed Simone had set up of their assassin. "Stella, what's going on, what's - "

"Lily, run a cross-diagnostic on the girl's face," Simone suddenly said.

"Which girl, could you please be more specific?"

"The one that Stel's staring at, who else?!" There was a pause as Lily brought up the data.

"That's a Casey Tyler. She used to go to Lincoln High...wait, that's Stella's - "

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell's - " Ian cried and Lily looked down in horror at the screen. "_Shit._"

"Patrick, get her under control _now!_ Goddamn it, she's jeopardizing this whole mission!" Alicia cried as they watched the hell unfold before them.

~'*'~

Stella dropped down from the ceiling and dead silence filled the previously bustling room as everyone took in the dark form that seemed to have just materialized before them. Her dark hood hid her daunting, demonic expression, and her uniform hung about her, framing her like a ghost or a reaper. That was when she pulled the handgun out of her holster and pulled her second one from her holster on her back, and just let all of her anger play out into what she saw as cold, deserved justice.

In reality it was a bloodbath.

People began screaming as doctors and nurses collapsed, killed by single shots that seemed to come from every direction simultaneously. Every time her weapons ran out of ammunition, suddenly she would procure another clip and load it with such ease and speed that there was practically no hesitation between reloading and firing once more. Her uniform seemed to spin about her in a sort of cape like manner as she leaped over beds and monitors, killing and striking without hesitation. The braver, or perhaps stupider, doctors who tried to run up against her, armed with scalpels or the like were kicked down or struck mortal blows with her vibranium cuff or her hidden blade. Lily, Ian, Simone, Alicia, and Patrick could only watch in horror as the people dropped like flies, blood sprayed the walls, the instruments, even the patients as Nightmare's deadly accuracy took its toll. Finally, the last shot rang out, the last cry, and Stella ran to the girl's side, reaching out to feel for a pulse in the neck.

"Cas? Cas, come on, listen to me Cas, you're gonna be okay. It's Stel! It's Stel, hey I'm here! I'm here," she said urgently and gently lifted the girl off her bed to lay her out on the floor. Her fogged, dead eyes continued to stare, and Stella shook her gently. "Cas? Casey? Come on, look at me, you're in there. I know you are."

She heard footfalls approaching but recognized the pattern of step. She knew it was Patrick, and she knew she was in for a hell of a lecture. But instead of getting an earful, Patrick knelt beside her and began doing the standard run-through checks in making a diagnostic, lifting her eyelids and . He swore under his breath, using language that would make a sailor proud, and got to his feet to look at what drugs had been used on her. When he found what he was looking for, he let the papers sift through his fingers to drift to the floor.

"Patrick, tell me she's okay. Tell me Casey's okay," she whispered, but Patrick simply reached out and closed the girl's eyes. Then, he reached over and pulled out Stella's gun and placed it in her hand. "What are you doing?"

"They lobotomized her, Stella. And according to the reports, it didn't hold. She's shut down. The least you can do is end it for her, because she can't." Stel looked at the gun and at the form lying in her arms. The dead look...this wasn't how anyone should live. This wasn't how she'd want anyone she loved to live. Then, wordlessly, she stood up, leveled the gun, and began tightening her finger on the trigger.

"I'm sorry, Cas." _Bang._ In the security room and by the electrical box, the other four team members started as the gun shot went off and Lily's eyes welled with tears as she realized what had just happened. Stella however, was gone. Nightmare was back in full swing: the beast inside knew she had just killed a room full of people, but she didn't seem to care.

"They deserved to die," Stella said, voice dead and automated once more. "They had signed on to forfeit their lives the moment they started working in this hellhole. The moment they had started testing on innocent school girls, they forfeited any right they had to live!" Stella shouted and looked around at Patrick. "And I am going to make Wade pay for the pain he has caused here." With that she marched to the elevator, practically wrenched the doors open, and went up, ditching Patrick before the man could follow.

"Jesus, she's going out of control!" Lily gasped. "Stella, you're leaving a flippin' _body_ trail, you need to calm down!" But Stella couldn't bring herself to stop what she was doing. For months she had trained. Months had passed since her mother had visited her for Christmas. That meant that for at least a month, Casey had been in this facility, a guinea pig for these sick, perverted people. "Patrick, she's on a killing spree in the hallway. I can't even - she's just gone. She's - they can't even get a blow in to defend themselves, she's just mowing them down!" There was something almost tearful to Lily's statement and Simone spoke.

"Patrick, you need to get up there. Alicia's calling in the jet, Barton's going to be here soon. Ian, Lily, let's tie up the loose ends and meet up at Wade's office. I have a feeling that there's going to be a lot for us to clean up over there."

"Lily, we need to go. Don't look at that anymore," Ian said, voice almost harsh, and he snatched the screen away from her, shutting it off, cutting off a woman's scream as she met her death at the hands of the monster ravaging the halls above them. "I'm sorry you had to see her like that. Romanoff warned Sim, Patrick, and I that she might go like that..."

"Then why...why did she deploy her if she's angry like that?" Ian gave a defensive shrug before they slipped away into the night, heading for the maintenance shaft to take them to the floor Wade's office was on.

"Sim, let's get out of here. Take an ID card, let's go," Alicia said, voice tense. "I told you she was too good. She was too detached, now she's gone on a killing rampage and we have to clean up her mess."

"You can't blame her. That was her _friend_ back there. I would have done that too if I had the power she did," Agent Herring responded

"With great power, comes great responsibility. She obviously doesn't have any," Alicia muttered, growing defensive at the look Simone gave her. "I _love_ Stella! Don't get me wrong, I love her. I just hate Nightmare. I hate...I hate the assassin. I hate that...monster."

~'*'~

Stella kicked out a window and grabbed one of the fleeing people and threw her forcefully out the window, turning around and effortlessly ducking a gunshot as her senses worked overtime. Her knife went flying again as she leaped over the bodies to kick the gunman painfully hard in the chest. She heard the sickening crack of bone as one of his ribs probably completely shattered under the impact.

Anger burning through her, she marched up to the door at the end of the hall, grabbing the handle and throwing it open with enough force that the hinges bent and the wood cracked. She didn't even stop to look at the broken bolts and chains that had held the door shut. Instead, her dark cowl swung to face the man cowering behind his desk, voice scared as he tried to defend his position.

"What - what do you want?" Stella didn't answer but seemed to swoop down upon the form, hissing at him in an intimidating display of anger. "Please! Please, please no! Whoever you are, whoever you work for please!" he begged, voice jumping in pitch as he saw the body littered hallway behind his executioner. His blithered pleas were drowned out by fearful sobs a she unholstered her gun and aimed it at his head. "Please...I have a daughter! I have a son, a wife! Please, I have a family, let me live so I can go to them!" She took another silent step forward and placed the cold metal against the side of his head and knelt down before him. When she spoke, her voice was a deadly low whisper.

"They had families too. _Casey -_ though you didn't know her name did you, you probably had a number designation for her," she leaned in closer to make her threat well understood. "Well let me tell you something: she had a family; all those people you've tested on and that you've used your weapons on...they had families too. You make me sick," she hissed and the man's eyes widened as he realized this terror was a woman. "I am Nightmare. And I bring death to those who do wrong." The man opened his mouth to plead once more but the gun shot cut off his words as much as the bullet that went through his temple. She stood up and turned around to see a man injured by multiple knife wounds trying to crawl away. The assassin could tell that his wounds weren't going to kill him and she marched over, ignoring his begging for mercy, and hauled him to his feet.

"Listen to me. You are going to live," she growled, shaking him like a rat. "You are going to walk out of here and find everyone and anyone else you know that would fall under the category of pissing me off. And you are going to tell them that there's a nightmare stalking the shadows. You're gonna tell them that no one_, no one, _is safe with me around." She drew him so close that he could see a faint outline of her face in the dark. "And you're gonna tell them that I can't be stopped. When I come for them, and I will, there's no escape." She dragged him by the collar of his lab coat through the body littered hall, ignoring his terrified whimpers and threw him into the elevator before sending him down to the base floor. There was a sudden patter of footsteps and the young woman knew the rest of her team had arrived. Suddenly though, there was a raining of gun fire and several screams as some security guards took advantage of the agents' distracted nature.

"GET DOWN!" Patrick yelled and dragged Alicia to the floor beside him as Ian and Lily dove across the hall, trying to shield each other simultaneously. Simone ducked behind the corner, pulling out her gun.

"PATRICK!" she shouted and the man pulled out his own weapon and he got to his feet, aiming and firing in a heartbeat while Simone set up a cross fire. Suddenly though, one man not deterred by bullets flying past his head, aimed at the form army crawling across the littered ground and pulled the trigger.

"AH!" The man convulsed and immediately went to grab his leg, trying to step the blood flow from his thigh.

"IAN!" Lily screamed, but before any of the others could shoot down the approaching guards, a black shadow seemed to descend upon the group and in a bewildering set of violent attacks, the rest of their opponents lay strewn on the floor. Nightmare finally stopped moving and looked around, surveying her damage.

"Is he okay?" she asked, running over to her friend, gently pulling his hands from the wound. "It's not bad. You hear me, it's not bad. You'll be fine." Ian grunted in pain as Stella reached down and pulled him to his feet, pulling his arm across her shoulders to support his body weight. "See? You're not dying. Lily, do you want to take him from here?" The woman nodded and slipped effortlessly into the cloaked figure's place, helping the weapons developer limp towards the elevator.

"Coulson! Coulson, did you get him? And is Ian alright?" Stella turned around to face Alicia as she came running over from the opposite end of the hall, stepping deftly over bodies. Following the head jerk to the side, the pilot, followed closely by Patrick, walked into the side room and grimly viewed the corpse before them.

"She got him alright," the oldest member said morosely and stepped back. "Ian you okay?" he asked as he saw Lily tying strips of the security guard's uniform over his wound.

"I feel like I just got shot in the leg, but other than that, fine..." he said through clenched teeth. Then, trying to ease his worried mind, he looked out the window he was leaning against. "Wait, there's a man running to the perimeter! He's calling guards over, Stel did you _let_ someone get away?!" he asked, shocked, and turned to face her.

"You need survivors to spread the horror stories," she said after a shrug. "Barton's plane is landing on the roof right now..." she added as she turned her headset back on. "Hey, Hawkeye. We'll be up there momentarily." Lily sighed as they heard all heard the question.

"How'd it go? You seem to be in a rush to get out of there."

"Well, there were...unforeseen casualties, but Wade's gone." Lily hesitated, sensing the superior agent's expression of that's not good enough. "Fine, and so is his whole research team, but we need people in here to clear out the people they were experimenting on and get them full medical treatment. Stella was pretty thorough though. This dealer isn't going anywhere anymore and neither are the people who were helping him out."

"Guys, we've got an incoming, we need to go quickly," Simone commented as she looked out the window. "Lily, do you need some help with him?"

"I think we can manage. Right?" she asked, almost breathlessly and Ian nodded tensely. "Let's go."

The six people ran to the stairwell, Lily practically carrying and dragging Ian at that point, sprinting up the steps to get to the roof.

"Ow, OW! I wish I didn't know you guys," the injured man groaned as their every move jostled his wound and Lily rolled her eyes.

"Don't be such an infant. We haven't reached the climbing bit yet." Ian glared and was about to say something scathing in response when Alicia came up behind him and took his weight off his other side as well so the two women were basically carrying him.

"I'M NOT AN INVALID!"

"At the moment you are. So shut up, Ian, we're trying to help you," Alicia snapped as they got to the roof, climbing the very radio antenna that Stella had landed on. "Stella, can you and Patrick help pull him up? Simone, we'll need you to cover us from behind."

"Sure thing," the African woman responded, firing her gun a few times to discourage the guards approaching the ladder leading to the roof. "You guys up yet?"

"SHIT, OW!" Ian shouted and then came Alicia's voice.

"Stop being such a wimp, Ian. You've had worse. Yep, we're up. Come on Sim, let's go!" Simone turned around and hurriedly climbed up the antenna to jump in a rather ungainly manner into the open back of the quinjet before Barton took off and vanished into the night sky.

"Patrick, you are not trying to remove that bullet in a moving plane," Ian grunted as he saw his friend approach with a medical kit.

"I'm not that skilled. Though I'm sure Barton is, and he's the one who's going to remove it."

"WHAT?!" As soon as he tried sitting up, Lily grabbed his head, held it still, and injected the narcotic into the side of his neck, knocking him out.

"Nice one," Barton said briefly before setting out the materials he needed. "Alicia, how long until we get back to base?" The Chinese woman looked at the controls briefly.

"About forty-five minutes."

"It's a rather quick trip," Patrick commented. "Can you do this in that time frame?"

"Good thing this is a quick procedure," the Avenger muttered before setting to work.

"Couldn't you just wait for the people at base to do this?" Simone asked, slightly worried. Clint shook his head.

"No. That's a lot of blood."

But in the hour of tense silence that followed, everyone seemed to steer clear of Stella Coulson as she took off her gloves and removed her armored plating, setting them in a neat heap on the seat. Simone couldn't help but shiver in what she thought was a subtle manner as she saw the blood glistening on the black fabric. But instead of being worried about it or disturbed, their assassin seemed pretty chill about everything.

And she wasn't the only one who noticed.

When they landed and everyone disembarked, a medical team coming to take Ian over to the emergency wing and give everyone a check up physical, Patrick stopped Stella with a firm grip on her shoulder.

"We'll be along," he said, voice hard. Barton nodded and ushered the medics away, telling them in short words that the other two would be along.

Here came the lecture, she thought bitterly. However, once they were alone, she felt herself enveloped in a tight hug.

"Stel, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," he whispered into the top of her head, and she awkwardly hugged him back, not understanding what was going on or what he was sorry for. After briefly giving her a fatherly kiss to the top of her head, Patrick left the quinjet and subtly wiped at his eyes to try and get rid of the tears there. That sweet girl he had met in the mess hall so long ago was gone. All gone.

And the poor child herself couldn't even see that: to her, everything was normal. In his mind's eye he replayed the what he had seen with his own eyes over and over...the bodies that just seemed to hit the floor, the blood that coated the concrete ground in a slick veneer...and the assassin who dealt those blows.

~'*'~

_You did well. You did, really, really well. _Stella just stared at the wall opposite her, seated cross-legged on her bed in her sleep wear shorts and tank top. _I'm proud of you. I truly am. You even checked out a hundred percent on your physical and Ian was okay. You helped them all. _

Something swelled in her chest at those words.

_Are you really proud, or are you just saying that?_

_No! I _mean_ it. You saw what they did to Casey. They deserved it. Trust me with this...you're stronger than you think. You can handle all of this. You can prove to the others that you are the perfect assassin to go kill Loki. You just need to prove your reputation here on earth first. _She looked down at her hands, slowly twisting her wrists so she could look at every aspect of them. These were the hands of a murderer, she reflected. They didn't look so different from an ordinary person's..._That's because they aren't. Every person is a murderer in their own way. A murderer of ideas, of dreams, of innocence...we all kill. It's all we're good at. _

_But did all of them deserve it?_

_Of course. Never let anyone tell you otherwise._

_You're right. They all_ did_ deserve it. _

_Yes. Now, get to sleep, and don't worry about anything. There will be no nightmares tonight. I promise. _Mentally nodding to the strong voice in her, the girl rolled over under her blankets and burrowed down into her pillows. Stella had just drifted off to sleep when the first face flashed behind her eyes. Her body twitched in the habitual motions of fighting and her brow creased as she relived her fight in the warehouse. There was a soft click at her door that failed to wake her and a tall man walked in, body frame beaten and defeated.

He wordlessly sat on the bed beside her and rested his hand on her shoulder, stilling her motions with a sense of security and peace. The man sighed and squeezed her shoulder, trying to give her comfort as she delved deeper into those fresh memories. When her fist rose and went in the direction of the thick, hard headboard, his faster than normal reflexes lashed out and he caught her hand, gently guiding it back to the mattress. He shook his head and gently, rhythmically smoothed her tousled hair down.

"It's alright Stel. It's all gonna be okay, I promise," Steve whispered, hating the thrashing and small noises she was making that obviously meant that she was in a rather intense nightmare. And he had a pretty good idea what of. "It's all gonna be okay." At the sound of his voice, she seemed to calm down a little. "I promised your dad today that I was gonna take care of you. Seems like I haven't done a great job of it so far." He laughed bitterly and looked up at the ceiling with tearful eyes, wishing he could see the stars through the many layers of synthetic material. "I'm sorry Phil."

At that moment, her nightmares reached the shouting phase and the super soldier was preoccupied with trying to comfort her, wanting to do nothing more than just pull her into a hug and never let her go. And in the end, he ended up doing just that.

In the air vents, Barton and Romanoff sat side by side, watching as Steve tried to help his granddaughter, and Nat looked around at Clint, surprised, as he briefly swiped a hand across his nose.

"You alright?" she asked and Barton shook his head.

"She was splattered with blood, Nat. There were bodies everywhere, and I can guarantee you that the rest of the team didn't put them there." Nat looked at the subconsciously traumatized girl being rocked gently back to sleep by her grandfather. "That's not Stella Coulson. What the hell did you do to her?" Nat looked around at him, expression genuinely hurt.

"I - I don't know."

In the morning, the Russian's apprentice would have no recollection of her nightmares or of her grandfather's presence by her side into the early hours of the morning.


	19. Chapter 19

**why did the internet freeze on me and DELETE THIS WHOLE CHAPTER! GAHHAJHDFJGHALDJKGHADKLJGHADLFJ! Now that i've calmed down...here we go. Enjoy and please leave a review! The more people review, the more motivated I am! ;D**

Fury looked up from the monitor before him to meet the hard gaze of the rather angry agent before him. Finally, he clicked several keys, minimizing and pausing the footage he was viewing so as to turn his full attention on the man before him.

"Your point being?" he asked and Demos took a deep breath to steady himself before continuing. Clearly he didn't do a good job of it as Fury's eyebrow rose above his single eye at the tone used.

"What the hell did you do to her? She went _crazy_ down there, and she doesn't even realize it anymore. She killed them without any qualms and did it so efficiently she couldn't even be considered to have morals anymore!" Patrick new he should stop talking, but now that he had gotten it off his chest, he couldn't stop. "She was covered in blood when we got through and she didn't even care! She just said she was doing what she was trained to do! You've killed the sweet innocent girl who walked through those main doors almost a year ago! You've made her a _machine!_" he spat, disgusted at what was before him. "_How _do you justify that?!"

Fury stood up and leaned forward on his desk, trying the most placating tone he could manage, which sounded fake and clearly forced, driving the senior agent to a near pitch state of wanting to just punch the director in the face. "Now, I know how this may appear to someone who doesn't know the Coulson family as well as I do." Here, the agent scoffed, knowing that Fury didn't really know anything about the Coulsons. "But trust me, she can handle everything that's happening to her." Demos gaped at him and then looked up at the ceiling, crossing his arms and rocking back as he gave a bitter bark of laughter.

"_No_ she _can't_," he protested, using a tone that one would use when talking to a small child. "She's not even registering that she's killing people anymore! She's appointed herself as a harbinger of death and justice where she has no right to be! And it's _not_ her fault! She doesn't even comprehend the consequences of her actions anymore, she doesn't even register what's going on around her except how to do her job! You've _destroyed_ everything that made her Stella Coulson and left a _husk_ in her place! And yet you continue to stand there and defend what you've done! You've destroyed a beautiful young woman with a bright soul and mind! You _sicken_ me, director!"

"Agent, you're walking a very fine line between voicing your opinion and insubordination," Fury said sternly and Demos stopped talking, reluctantly resorting to glaring poisonously at the tall man before him to get his point across. "Now. As I was saying - " Both men looked around as the door slammed open and another man shoved his way into the room, shouldering painfully by Agent Hill to march up to the metal desk to glare at the man standing behind it. Fury fought a sigh. He really didn't have to deal with whatever it was Rogers was going to throw at him right now -

"What the hell have you done to Stella Coulson?" he growled, whole body lined with anger and the desire to just beat the living daylights out of the director. "Sorry to interrupt you, Demos," he added through clenched teeth.

"It's fine. We were having a similar conversation actually," Patrick replied in quite the same manner as the super soldier. The Director sighed as he looked between the two men before him. He knew that look: it was the parental _I AM GOING TO END YOU _look...apparently this girl had more fathers than he had considered possible. Fury sighed and eyed the two of them quite seriously.

"There is nothing wrong - "

"DO NOT TELL ME THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH HER!" Fury instinctively tried to step back at the monstrous shout that came from the usually controlled Avenger, but the motion was in vain as Steve's strong grip took hold of a handful of his shirt front and hauled him forward so that the two men were nose to nose. "She was screaming with nightmares last night. She was going to _hurt_ herself it was that bad. And it didn't stop until about an hour before she woke up, and when she did, she had no memory of it! You have destroyed her!" Fury stumbled slightly as he was thrust back onto steady ground, but now the air was heavy and electric with anger and overall tension.

"I want to know exactly what you've done to my granddaughter. And don't try to tell me that you haven't done anything! A specific someone - " Patrick inclined his head in acknowledgment of his own actions, and Steve continued. "- left a DVD with some CCTV footage for me to look at. And I know right now that is not the girl that I met standing outside the buffalo pen all those months ago. I don't know what that was, but it wasn't human. So I'll ask you again...what did you do?" Fury looked over at the door and made a small gesture with his head and Hill, who had up to this point been an uncomfortable spectator, gratefully left the room to stand guard by the door, shooing "innocent bystanders" on their way to avoid eavesdropping.

"You may want to know a little more than that after you see whatever is on Stark's files," Demos added, voice dark, but both men were taken aback ever so slightly when Fury scoffed.

"Did you really think I would leave files labelled Nightmare out where Stark would have easy access to them?" Both people before him shifted uncomfortably. "There is a reason that Doctor Jones hasn't vanished off the face of the earth yet; it's because she didn't actually uncover anything of consequence. Those were decoy folders that I specifically put up so that Stark would go for those. He likes to think that he's smarter and above everyone else, so I fed that and made it look like I was an idiot and labelled top secret files Nightmare. You wouldn't even do that, Rogers. And that's saying a lot." The super soldier's eyes narrowed at the veiled taunt. "So, Stark has files with empty documents that are labelled suspiciously. Congratulations."

Silence. There really was nothing that the two men could say: their one weapon, their one item of leverage, was completely useless.

"And one more thing," he said, seeing a way out of this for himself. "You are coming at me like it's my fault. I wasn't the one who trained her." Both men looked up sharply at him. "I recommend talking with Agent Romanoff."

"This is not Romanoff's fault. You told her to train her."

"And I also told her to change her training methods, and she refused." The two men looked at each other and were about to stalk out the door when Rogers' head swung back around to face Fury. "Something _else_ on your mind, Rogers?"

"Yeah, actually. You stay away from - " Demos nudged the super soldier, and the angry man looked over his shoulder to see Stella Coulson standing in the doorway. His stomach dropped at the haggard, yet composed air about her. Her unsteady sleep was clearly projected on her face with the dark rings under her eyes and the slightly sunken skin on her cheeks. But the moment she spoke and began moving, all of that dropped away, and the façade came up; she looked perfect, healthy, and whole.

"You wanted to see me, Director?" she asked, walking forward and it took only a few steps for Steve's heart to break. Her posture, her walk, it was too strict, too perfect. There was a sort of swing to her step that showed how quick and agile she was, and overall it painted a rather disconnected personality, but a deadly one that wasn't afraid to kill. She stopped before the director's desk, head tilted to the side ever so slightly in question.

"Yes. Your performance at the warehouse was - "

"I apologize for my actions, sir. I went out of control and jeopardized the mission. It wasn't my place to act that way," came the well oiled and practiced statement, and Patrick put a hand on Steve's shoulder, pulling him from the room before he had to witness any more of what was about to unfold. "Was I disturbing anything?"

"Not at all," Fury responded smoothly, looking at the perfect soldier before him. "I wanted to commend you actually for your actions. The people were taken care of and the few survivors there were taken into SHIELD custody. That ring was well and truly broken...in fact it seems that all of their accomplice industries are falling apart as well. Any comment?"

"Horror stories spread, sir," she said, deadpan and obedient in her response and speech._ I'm sure they do,_ the tall man thought to himself and could only imagine what the underworld of society was talking about, the stories they were spreading about the mysterious wraith that had taken down a heavily guarded central warehouse. He didn't envy their position. "Was there anything else?"

"Yes. I want you and your team - after a few days rest of course - to go out on a series of missions, one per day, and take out all of this gang's support industries. Each one is a part of a bigger web that includes arms dealers, mercenaries, spy networks for other countries, basically everything and anything we can think of. It's a pretty big problem...you think you can take it on?"

"Give the word and I'll be on my way, sir," she said in response, lifting her chin slightly to take on the unspoken challenge. Fury nodded and slid a memory card across the table to her. "She picked it up and put it in her pocket, dipped her head in his direction, and left the room without another word.

The perfect soldier.

~'*'~

Romanoff was practicing in the training room when she heard footsteps behind her. Thinking it to be Barton or maybe Stella, she simply took off her gloves and dropped them on the ground, turning to face the newcomers. The next thing she knew, she was striking back instinctively as she fought to clear her head of lingering ringing from a solid punch to the head. When her vision steadied, she saw Rogers standing there, her wrist held captive in his powerful grip.

"Rogers, are you out of your mind?" she yelled and the room went silent.

"Yeah, just about." His response was short, to the point, and above everything, angry. Really angry. "You trained her. What did you do?" Her own expression growing dark, she wrenched her arm free and bent down to pick up her equipment, marching past them towards her room. "Romanoff, I mean it!" he called, running after her and she stopped, turning to face him and noting that Patrick Demos was beside him, not looking pleased in the slightest either.

"This is Fury, isn't it? Shifting the blame for Stella's deteriorating condition onto me? I can tell you right now, what's going on with her has absolutely nothing to do with me. Got it?!"

"What are you talking about, _you _trained - " Patrick found himself pinned up against the wall, looking into the Russian's blazing green eyes.

"I taught her what to do, I didn't teach her when to do it, or how much to do it. I taught her how to become untouchable because that's what she wanted! Beyond that, I had nothing to do with anything, do you understand!? The last thing I wanted was for her to turn into what she's turning into, believe me. It makes me sick to think that that is Phil's daughter. Because I know it's not." She pulled back and the man fell to the floor, realizing that she had effortlessly lifted him about two to three feet off the ground. She turned around to face Rogers.

"And you! To think that you would believe Fury! He's manipulative and he lies. He does anything to slough the blame from him onto someone else who's below him, who he can easily dispose of at a later date." Here, she lowered her voice so that only the two of them could hear. "I would _never_ do anything to harm her like that. Not when I know that she's your granddaughter and that her father is alive in this very base. I'm not that cold; I never was, and I never will be." She marched out of the room, Patrick and Steve following her with questions burning in their minds.

"Look, then what's going on with her?" Patrick asked and Steve looked from him to Romanoff, wanting an answer to that question. She shrugged and entered her room, kicking the door open as she passed over the threshold, indicating for the other two to follow her inside. She waited until the door closed to start talking.

"Barton, out of the vents." There was a creaking noise and the grate hinged open, revealing the archer as he dropped to the floor. "The two of us were talking. We've decided that there is something else in her head. It's not me, it's not Barton, it's not Fury even. It's herself. There is something wrong up here," she tapped the side of her head, "that is driving her insane. She's created this alter ego, this Nightmare, this perfect soldier, to cope with that. Her normal self was losing the battle against whatever monster was up in her head, so she created something cold and ruthless to handle it for her. Except, as you can see from her nightmares, it isn't really working. She's holding it at bay during the day, while she's working and functioning, but it's eating her up inside, burning away at her subconscious. It's only a matter of time before she really and truly breaks."

"I think she knows that," Barton interjected. "That's why she's turned into what she has. She thinks that by becoming so cold and so vicious, she can beat whatever is trying to kill her in her dreams. She can become better, faster, and stronger than her monsters. In reality, she's only feeding them, and she'll just stop functioning. She will eventually shut down, because her personality isn't strong enough to beat what's killing her."

"She thinks that she's going to be sent on a mission to kill Loki," Patrick said in the silence that followed and everyone looked at him, taken aback and disbelieving. "I mean it. And I've been thinking about it too. It makes sense. Think about it! You've got Stark, Selvig, and Jane Foster working on creating a bypass to other realms that Earth can control. None of them, as far as I know, actually understand what it's going to be used for. And Fury has told us that we're only the practice runs for Stel. We're training exercises. Which we're clearly not, by the way," he said, turning to Steve. "The missions we go on are dangerous and real life. She can die on those runs. She thinks that she's invincible and that she can take on a god. And come back to tell the tale, and be victorious."

"But she can," Romanoff said softly. "She _can_ kill Loki and come back to tell the tale because she's better than everyone else. She's better than me. I made sure of that. And god do I regret it now more than ever." Steve gaped.

"Better than you? So what happens when she breaks? What if she goes all crazy on us and finally figures out that SHIELD took her in, chewed her up, and spat her back out? She'll go on a rampage _in here_, and if you can't stop her, who or _what_ will?" The girl's grandfather looked at all of the slightly guilty, avoiding expressions around him. "You realize what you're telling me is that if she goes crazy, all we're going to be able to do is put a bullet to her, right? And judging by this - " he brandished the DVD from Patrick of their mission the night before, " the only way that we can actually put a bullet to her is one right through the head. You've created a time bomb with no way to actually defuse it. Congratulations." With that, he left the room and beelined for the door. He couldn't stand to be in the same room as them. He couldn't stand to be in the same room as any of these people.

~'*'~

Stella was rocking back and forth on her bed, arms wrapped around her legs and eyes pressed into her knees. She was whimpering and muttering indistinctly, but she didn't know that. She didn't know anything that was going on around her. Her mind was far away, combating the shouts of someone deep inside.

_WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! In Stella's mind, she was hitting against her locked bedroom door, screaming at the person on the other side of the hard, unyielding wood._

_I'VE DONE WHAT I'VE HAD TO DO! FOR US! SO WE COULD SURVIVE! The voice, a voice so much like hers, but different in all the important ways, shouted back. It was the person who came out on missions, the person who comforted her in the dark, long hours of the night._

_YOU'VE KILLED PEOPLE! She screamed back, and the voice laughed bitterly and bemusedly._

_Naïve child! her counterpart taunted. I've nothing more to say to you than that. You _owe_ me! You should be thanking me on bent knee! The young woman rolled her eyes at the banging from the inside of the door. Keep kicking, hitting, and screaming, little mouse. You're not getting out of there anytime soon. It's about time for me to make my mark on this organization. You're too weak to do much...you just embarrass us. I'll show them who they should fear. How things should be done!_

_What would dad do if he saw what you did in that warehouse? Stella called, hoping to appeal to the one thing she and Nightmare had in common any more. What would daddy do if he saw the blood on your hands? She waited with bated breath for the response she knew would come and backed up a step as she heard the lock turn, and the door clicked open to reveal a mirror image of herself. But she was different; there was something dark and angry in her eyes and a wild look to her stance that stood her apart from the small, innocent girl who stood opposite her. _

_The same person, but polar opposites. _

_Dad would under - _

_Stella swung a fist into Nightmare's face and fled the locked room she was in, slamming the door and locking the door on the monster who had kept her prisoner long enough. She ran down the stairs of her house, ignoring the howls of anger and pure evil from upstairs, and threw open the front door to see Nightmare's handiwork littering her world. Bodies, blood, and lies...everywhere. She screamed and slammed the door, sinking to the floor of this hell that was her mind, and shuddered and started every time the temporarily hindered demon upstairs pounded on the locked door. The screams and shrieks were from the very depths of hell, and they sent shivers running up and down her spine every time they rent the air. _

_That is _her_ up there, she told herself. That isn't you. That's _her.

_I AM YOU! the voice howled from upstairs. She cowered and pulled at her hair, shrinking down in the threshold of the doorway.  
_

_NO! I'M ME, I'M ME! GO AWAY, STAY AWAY, YOU MONSTER!_

Stella shuddered intermittently as she lay in a fetal position on the floor, having fallen off her bed ages ago, but not noticing. Tears silently slipped from her wide, vacant eyes, the only sign of the turmoil tearing her apart inside. Suddenly though, there was a hand on her shoulder and someone was gently picking her up and carefully pulling her upper body up against his chest so that her head was slumped against his shoulder.

"Shh...you're okay. She's gone, you're fine..." Patrick whispered and gently smoother her hair away as she looked numbly up at him. There was a blankness there that made his heart break and he just held her tighter. "Stella, are you here?" he asked kindly and he ached inside as she shook her head.

"She's killing me," she whispered, voice hoarse and unstable and he nodded, resting his chin on her head.

"I know...I know...but just remember, we're hear for you okay? If you need anything, you come and see me, Steve, Romanoff, or Barton, you hear me?"

"I'm not broken. Don't try to fix me," she said, voice suddenly hard again and she sat up brushing her tears aside. "I'm sorry. Momentary setback, won't happen again."

_Nightmare was backing triumphantly away from the locked door when it slammed open, the weak little mouse jumping at her with the ferocity of a tiger._

_GET OUT OF MY HEAD! I DON'T WANT YOU HERE, NOT RIGHT NOW! GET OUT! I AM MY OWN PERSON, GET OUT YOU MONSTER! _Stella lost her balance and her legs gave out from under her so she crashed awkwardly into the small table she and her mother had sat at so long ago. Patrick got to his feet and ran over to her, helping her up and guiding her towards the door.

"No doctors. I don't want to go to any doctors," she mumbled vaguely, but Patrick shook his head.

"No. I'm not bringing you to any doctors. I'm taking you out of here _right now_."

"No. You can't take me out, I'm dangerous. I'm dangerous, stop!" She tried unsuccessfully to pull away, but Demos continued on their way.

"Stel, the only reason you're dangerous is because you're still in here. You need to get out. I know just where to take you...alright?" Stella gave him a pleading look. "I know what I'm doing." She shook her head, brow furrowing in sadness.

"No, you don't. You can't handle the monster...and there's only one way you can stop her if she comes out," she whispered, and the man beside her gave a sad smile.

"I know. That's why I've got that." His eyes shifted briefly down to the inside of his leather jacket and she caught the brief glimpse of a weapon's harness and the dull glint of a gun before his clothing blocked it from view once more. She looked up at him, and Patrick was disturbed and saddened by the relief and almost longing that glittered in her eyes. As carefully as it was veiled, he could read the desire for that bullet to hit her head burning in the back of her mind.

And that's when he knew that she did in fact understand that she was wasting away. She just didn't seem to care anymore. There was nothing left for her to live properly for.

~'*'~

For once, Steve reflected, Stark was right about something. Buffalo were surprisingly comforting and relaxing. Zen...that was how Stella had described them. He sighed at the thought of his granddaughter and bowed his head so that it was resting against the fence post. He focused on the snuffling and shifting of the buffalo before him, trying to find a sense of peace in the majestic beasts. Something that could calm his frayed nerves.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps on the pavement behind him and he looked to the side to see Patrick approaching, arm around Stella's shoulders and guiding her it seemed. He sighed and pushed himself upright from his position leaning against the fence and walked forward to wrap his arms around his young relative as she softly cried into his shirt. He eyed Patrick, quick mind picking up on his grave expression, ready stance, and most importantly, the gun strapped to his side under the cover of his jacket.

"What's that for?" he asked, voice hard. Patrick looked at him, pity in his eyes.

"You know what's it for," he simply responded and the agent noted how, entirely subconsciously, Steve tightened his grip on the girl in his arms as he gently rocked side to side. "I'm sorry." The man before him shook his head though, eyes suddenly looking like those of the ninety year old he actually was: filled with pain and a wisdom that came with seeing too much for one lifetime.

"Don't be. It's how it's turned out." He sighed as Stella pulled away and numbly walked over to the fence, leaning on it much as her grandfather had, and stared hard at the animals before her, trying to find an emotional sanctuary in their presence. "It's how it turned out."

"Don't worry. I'll look out for her when you're not around," Patrick assured him in an undertone and Steve gave him a curt nod.

"Thank you. I know you will...I don't know if I have the legal jurisdiction to do this, but I'd like to appoint you as her guardian. Any time you think she's in a position to hurt herself, or that she needs to be pulled back on track, you do it. I just want her safe." They looked over at her and Patrick sighed heavily.

"Then you and I have the same goal," he finally commented, and Stella pretended that she hadn't heard any of that conversation.


	20. Chapter 20

**Thank you to my three guest reviewers! You guys/girls/beings made my day! :)**

It had become a routine. The plane would be flown over the designated target, and the team would jump, Stella now perfectly comfortable with dropping from dizzying and deadly heights on her own. First, they would land. Then, Ian and Lily would hack into the electrical while Alicia and Simone would take care of the CCTV cameras and surveillance, effectively becoming the team's eyes and alarm system overlooking everything. And then Stella and Patrick would go in and start taking care of the people inside. But even that was changing. Now it was basically Patrick tagging along as a sort of tech support, making sure that Stella didn't lose herself in the fighting, didn't go mad with her actions. Nightmare, that cloaked freak of nature, was the one who did everything now.

So every day, every week, every month, and eventually a year - an additional year to the one that had passed since she joined SHIELD - Fury and Hill were able to take more and more names off of the most wanted, most dangerous, and at large lists that they had. Fortified bases that they had once needed to break into, important members of criminal webs who needed to be eliminated - their work was narrowing down. The most notorious names in the organization's history were dropping like flies at the hands of their company-made monster. In fact, when Romanoff decided to check up on the lists of clientel she usually ended up being given, she found that many of the names were now labelled in red, marked with the tag: DECEASED. And every single one she clicked on had the name Agent Stella Coulson under the category CAUSE OF DEATH.

And every day the team came home they bore only scrapes and bruises; once in a blue moon there was a broken bone or a wound needing stitches, something serious. Now though, it was in and out; really smooth and no complications or snags. But the most impacting realization that Ian, Lily, Simone, Alicia, and Patrick had was that Stella Coulson said less and less before and after each mission. And every time she came back to base and got off the plane, she was covered in more and more blood. In fact, Alicia wouldn't have been surprised if the bathtub in the young woman's room was permanently tainted red. Even worse, Phil's daughter seemed to be sleeping less and less; her appearance grew more ragged and ashen by the day, leaving her looking more like a skeleton in the mornings than a living person. Steve Rogers had officially been given visitor's hours due to his showing up one too many times in a day, and Patrick soon took over his role of watching over her while she slept. However, due to that, the team dynamic started to slip as Demos himself grew more exhausted from caring for Stella every night and making sure she didn't hurt herself in her dreams. But the true problem was that she was getting stronger and stronger while her mind and the rest of her body wasted away. Her shouts during the night shifted away from unintelligible words to full on sentences, arguments between herself and Nightmare that painted a truly horrific image of what her own mind was like in the minds of her guardians. More and more her bathroom counter became cluttered with various medications for migraines, post-traumatic stress disorder, sleeplessness, and - more recently - stomach ulcers.

However, every time that anyone - member of the team or a _very _concerned party - tried to confront Fury about what was going on, even presented data tables and charts of information (Simone and Alicia) to try and show that Stella was suffering, the Director simply continued with his work and refused to comment on anything that was being said to him. Rogers had eventually stopped coming in to talk at Fury - not _to_, it was _at_ at this point...he never listened anymore - instead beelining to Stella's room where he sat in silence while he watched his granddaughter waste away.

In fact, there were times when he was positive that she didn't even realize that he was sitting beside her, holding her hand. At first, Steve had thought it was nothing more than her just being more isolated and anti-social than normal, but when he realized it was something more than that, it broke his heart.

"Stella?" he whispered, looking down at their joined hands and realizing that the only applied pressure was his own. She was just sitting there, blank and vacant, staring straight ahead, mind either gone or a million miles away. He rose from the bed to kneel down before her, looking at her with anger and sadness burning in him. "Stella? Can you hear me?" He reached up and waved in front of her eyes and her head slowly tilted down to look at him, expression still utterly blank and dead. "Stella?" he whispered, squeezing her hands, hoping that something would get through the fog clouding her mind. But when there was nothing, he rest his head down upon her lap and let the tears that had been burning and blurring his vision slip out and leak down the bridge of his nose. And still she sat there, unresponsive, until she got up, retreated to the bathroom, routinely prepared for bed and took her medications, and went to sleep.

That had been the first time. The second time, the time after that, and the time after _that_, Rogers had called in Doctor Jones, Banner, Stark even, trying to find a reason for what was going on. All he got in response were those sad, sad looks and that was when he knew for sure this was spiraling towards the end. It was one of those days, when he just sat beside her vacant self, waiting for something to bring her out of it, when Patrick came into the room, tapping gently on the door frame with his unbroken hand. The WWII vet looked up at him with dazed, red-rimmed eyes and reluctantly stood, leaving his granddaughter to remain comatose on the bed. As soon as they were out of the room, Patrick put an arm around the man's shoulders and led him to Clint's quarters down the hall.

"Where are we going?" Steve asked, but the agent just sighed heavily. When the door opened, Rogers looked at all of the people gathered there and bowed his head. It was right after a mission, and everyone was injured rather seriously in some way, shape, or form. Lily's right shoulder, which had been dislocated and damaged, was held close to her body in a tight sling with those white, tape-like stitches pulling the lips of a large gash on her cheek together. Ian's knee was in a brace, and he was leaning on his crutches as he stood beside his lover, looking down at her as she sat on a chair, refusing to sit down himself. Alicia's foot and upper thigh were tightly bound with those thicker field bandages that Romanoff had used on Stella's sprained ankle so long ago and with the same stitched up cuts as Lily had all over her shoulders and arms; she was wheelchair ridden. Simone was wearing a crop top and lying on Clint's bed, the bloodied bandages wrapped about her midriff peeking from under her short shirt. Clint and Romanoff stood off to the side, looking at the injured and ravaged team before them, expressions dark, yet unreadable. Patrick's broken right hand was held immobile in a cast and his left shoulder bore the unmistakable marks of a very deep dog bite.

Overall, it painted a very unwelcome image of wartime injuries for the veteran, and he sat heavily in a chair looking around at them all. Their faces and clothes were still dirty from what their mission had been, and the old man shook his head, actually looking for once his age, not his outward, deceivingly preserved image.

"What happened?" he asked, voice hoarse and Simone shook her head sadly from her reclined position on the mattress.

"She didn't talk at _all_ this run...I guess that was the first warning sign. Then...when things got hot, she didn't notice we were down, not until she had found our target, Simon Cormack," she whispered, her voice croaky and worse than Steve's when he had asked her the question she was answering. "Even then...he got away...I got shot...I screamed, and that snapped Stel out of it." Romanoff walked over quickly as she started coughing, wincing as every heaving motion pulled at the bullet wound in her abdomen. Miraculously, it hadn't killed her.

"Shh, Herring. You shouldn't be talking; just rest. Demos can tell everyone what happened, I'm sure," the Russian said pointedly, looking around and fixing a glare on the specified agent as though it were his fault the disguise master was overtaxing herself. Clint pulled out two chairs for Ian and Patrick, the only two standing, and indicated for the latter to start his explanation. No doubt it was going to take a very, very long while.

"We went to Stark's first...you know get outfitted again with weaponry..." he began, swallowing as his mind started putting the chaotic events of the past two days straight in his mind. "From there it was to the - you know...classified place..."

* * *

The plane was coming low over the snowy, wooded area, finding the blind spot in the radar where it would be landed: a near-invisible, craggy outcropping of dense rocks that scattered and distorted the radar signal. Stella was the only one not looking nervous: this was the hub; this was the main center, and the raging myths and horror stories that had been circulating about this team hadn't helped make security lax. It had tightened up to the point where one would think all the presidents and rulers of every nation on earth were meeting in one place to discuss the most top secret topic possible. The air rushing past them was strong and it made a low keening noise as it whipped around the metal exterior of the plane as it settled into its small hideaway and the power shut off, plunging everyone into a cold darkness. Alicia unbuckled from the pilot's seat and grabbed the massive harpoon gun stored in the netting that branched across the whole ceiling of the craft.

"Well, Stark hasn't let us down yet," she assured them, seeing their skeptical looks. "If he says this thing can fire across the canyon and bear our weight across, then I say it can." Ian scoffed.

"Yeah, fine. But if we all fall and die, I'll kill him," he said, rubbing his cold hands together to try and generate some warmth. "So, we ready?" There was a sound of a gun loading and cocking and they all turned around to see Stella slide the specially made sniper shotgun hybrid Stark had promised her into the holster on her back. Without sparing them a second glance, she walked to the control panel beside the back hatch of the plane and pressed a few buttons, the outside world slowly revealed to them as the ramp lowered.

"Looks like one icy hell," Patrick joked and flipped his the collar of his black jacket up to try and repel some of the cold. "God forsaken place." Simone gave an equally frozen bark of laughter in response as they stepped out into the snow, climbing up the sides of the rocky outcrop to look down around themselves. The pine trees covered the mountainside, coated in thick layers of white, and from their high vantage point their trained eyes could pick out the surveillance posts in the branches, and the partial sun reflected dully off their guns.

"Alright, this is it," Simone commented and gestured for Alicia to come forward with the harpoon gun. "Dead center, right down there. You got it?" The woman nodded and braced herself, bringing the gun neatly into her shoulder and bending her head down to look through the sight. Her finger squeezed the trigger and with a silent shot and hiss of heavy rope flying through the air at what should've been an impossible speed, the heavy metal head vanished in the distance, and nailed the intended target: a small ventilation shaft that allowed fumes from the complex to filter out into the air.

"Nice shot," Ian mused as he looked at her handiwork through some pocket sized binoculars. "Dead on."

"Thank you," she responded as she wedged the gun between two boulders, creating an anchor point, and standing up and pulling out a thick leather strap with loops on either end. "Ready to do this?" Patrick pulled out the rest of the leather straps from his back pack and passed them to the rest of the team.

"It's now or never...not like it's gonna get any easier the more we dawdle, right Stel?" There was no response. Clearing his throat in the awkward silence, he examined each strip of material before passing them out. "Shit."

"What's wrong?" Lily asked, looking over his shoulder.

"I need to go kill that intern when we get back. He exposed the leather to too much heat, and now it's all cracked...it might snap if we - " Without further ado, Stella reached forward and took the damaged one right out of her friend's hands and put one loop around her own wrist. "That...solves that problem then."

"You can go first, Alicia, since you were so confident that it wouldn't break," Ian said and made a discreet bowing gesture for her to go first. She narrowed her eyes at him before getting up and hooking the leather strap over the heavy naval rope, and fastening it around her other hand. She flashed a quick grin over her shoulder.

"See you in hell." With that she jumped and Lily looked on with slight uneasiness as her teammate sped down the rope like a zip line, coming to a stop on the far side by bracing herself against the metal wall with her legs. As they watched, she unhooked herself and dropped quietly to the snow.

"I'm in position. Ian, you're next."

"Damn you, Stark," he muttered, setting himself up and going down the line next, followed by Simone and Lily. Unseen by any of them, Ian's eyes had been screwed shut for most of the way, as he prayed to every god he knew of (historical or current) that he wouldn't suddenly find himself plummeting to his death. Patrick looked around at Stella.

_Please snap, please snap -_

_What, are you _trying_ to die now? _Nightmare asked the little voice as she set up the leather strap.

_I'm trying to stop _you_. You kill because you think it's fun - _

_Wrong. I kill because I think these people are dogs,_ the assassin interrupted. _Big difference there, please note it for future reference._

_They're human beings, give them a chance, arrest them or someth - _

_Men get arrested. Dogs get put down._ With that final statement, she pushed off the snowy ledge and felt the cold wind blow against her face. It was a sensation she had gotten quite used to, but this was slightly different. If this snapped, she was falling a thousand feet to turn into a pancake on the canyon floor. Maybe that was why she liked it...but now that she thought about it and cast a wary eye down, she really didn't want to fall. _Wouldn't exactly be a pleasant death...falling and knowing that you were going to get crushed, have your brains end up not in your head but rather on the dirt and -_

_Okay, can you please stop thinking about that, I think I'm going to be sick._

_Told you that you were weak. And _you_ were the one who wanted the strap to break,_ she commented snidely to herself and landed safely against the metal like a tree frog. But just as she was about to take the leather strap off, there was a soft cracking noise and suddenly the assassin found herself crashed in a graceless heap in the snow, looking at the rest of her team's knees.

"Well, good thing it broke then and not when you were coming down," Patrick whispered and she angrily got to her feet and brushed the flakes of white from her clothes. It wouldn't do to try and hide in the shadows while she was speckled and dusted in such a clashing color like this.

"Okay. Ian, Lily, you two are up to go through the ventilation shaft. Alicia and Simone, I want you guys to go with us towards the cliff ledge there. We'll drop onto the cargo train that'll be coming around that bend in a few minutes, and stow away in one of the cars. Lily, Ian, by the time we get in, we want you two to have control over electrical. We good?" The couple nodded and Lily pulled out a sort of laser scalpel and began cutting the heavy metal grid away. Finally, after cutting a perimeter in the metal large enough for her to crawl through, Ian grabbed the grid and yanked back on it, creating an open hole.

"I'll need someone to put this back in place once the two of us are through," Lily said as Ian lifted her into their entry point. In response, Stella bent down and picked up the grate and slammed it back into its place just as Ian cleared the opening. "Thanks. Remember, we won't be able to contact each other until you're over the perimeter, alright?"

Nightmare nodded once and flipped her hood up over her head, hiding her expression in the shadows once more. Before anyone could say anything else though, the train whistle came in the distance and Ian flashed a quick smile before the two of them vanished into the gloom.

"Let's go," Simone whispered and the four of them edged their way along the alarmingly small ledge as the rumbling of a heavy object hurtling along rickety tracks grew louder. But somehow, Alicia reflected, they managed to get into place and they sat there, crouched and braced in preparation for their rather suicidal jump.

"That's what, twenty feet onto a quickly moving object?" Alicia breathed nervously as they sat like gargoyles, watching the engine come around the bend.

"Just do, don't think about it."

"Thanks, Patrick. That was really comforting," Simone sighed, nerves building. "You nervous Stel?" The dark hood beside her shook side to side. "Not very talkative this round are you?" In response, Stella suddenly stood and leaped, Simone giving a small squeak of terror as they watched her plummeted down towards the racing locomotive.

_Thud_.

The muffled bang of her boots hitting the snow covered roof of the train carried up to them and Patrick reluctantly stood and leaped as well, landing a train car behind Stella and motioning for the assassin to come and stand beside him.

"You first," Simone muttered and Alicia jumped as well, followed a half second later by Herring as the two of them landed practically on top of each other on the car roof. "Alright, Patrick?"

"Fine. Let's all meet up on your train car, alright?" he called through his comm, and Alicia nodded.

"Yeah." The weapons developer and Coulson walked to the edge of their roof and jumped, landing slightly clumsily before Simone and Alicia. "How do you want to break in - " There was a creaking noise behind them and they turned around to see an access hatch opening in the roof beside them.

_The loud bang hadn't been normal_, the young man decided. _It hadn't been a rock, it had been a person, I'm sure of it_. He had heard of the stories of a monster that was hunting the criminal underground...and he was scared more than ever that this was that thing...that - that _nightmare_. This was their doom come to kill them all.

He wasn't that far off at all.

Nightmare grabbed him from the back of his uniform and in one easy movement hauled him out of the safety of his post and threw him off the side of the speeding train, dropping in and pulling out her gun. With the silencer on, the team couldn't hear the shots go off at all, but they heard the screams of people inside. Alicia bit her lip, but refrained from saying anything when Patrick threw her a look.

"Not her fault, remember?" he said over the roaring wind, and she nodded. "We should be able to go in now." Simone lowered herself into the compartment and was welcomed with a sight that made her stomach flip.

Young men and women in military uniforms lay draped all over the rattling and rocking train car, expressions of abject terror on their faces, though that too was slowly fading away as their bodies began to settle and stiffen in death. Vaguely she heard Alicia and Patrick drop in behind her and she had to give it to Demos for not reacting stunned or taken aback in any way.

"Quick and clean as always," the man muttered and made a noise of uncertainty. "Well, perhaps not absolutely clean...but...eh. It'll do."

Alicia gaped. "Eh, it'll do?" she whispered in disbelief and promptly shut up when Patrick shot her a look and Nightmare's dark cowl swung around to look at her. "Sorry."

"I know you don't approve of what she does, but you need to keep it down around her. You know she's volatile," he muttered and thankfully his voice was obscured by the rattling of wood and metal over the tracks. "Well. Let's get ready. We just have to wait to get in to contact Ian and Lily." They waited in silence until there was a change in the material the tracks below them were made of, and the bluetooth started crackling with reinstated communications. "Reichen, Thompson, how are you guys doing?" he called into his bluetooth and took several deep breaths to steady his stomach as the blank eyes of the dead stared at him from seemingly every corner of the room.

* * *

"Remind me to never volunteer to crawl through tiny spaces ever again," Ian grumbled as he crawled on elbows and knees along the smooth metal surface, bandana tied tightly across his nose and mouth to try and filter out the hot air blowing through the shaft into their faces. His eyes were squinted against the heat and he was trying hard not to start coughing because he knew any noise would echo in a ridiculously loud way into the base, alerting who knows what to their presence.

"Well, this is what happens when you're a field agent," Lily whispered back. "You get the crap jobs no one else wants. But at least we're not jumping twenty or thirty odd feet down onto a moving train." She just barely held back a cough as she accidentally took in a large breath of hot air. "Eugh...don't do what I just did, Ian..."

"And that is - " he stopped as a light showed up ahead and slowed his army crawling to a mere creeping until he came up to a metal grate identical to the one that they had come through. "Here. Laser scalpel," Lily breathed, reaching into her backpack and passing it forward, flinching as her boyfriend's foot accidentally hit her in the face. "Ow, _Ian!_" she snapped, careful to keep her voice down.

"Sorry," he whispered and slowly began the process of cutting through the metal, senses jumping all over the scale as he strained to hear any sound from the world beyond the criss-crossing lines of metal before his face. Lily took a deep breath and put her hand up to her left ear and pressed down on the small black button.

"Ali, we're almost through," she breathed and nodded to herself at her friend's response.

"I hear you. Patrick says to tell us when you're through. He wants to know right when you're connected." At that point, Ian finally managed to cut his way through entirely and caught the grate just as it was about to topple to the floor.

"That was close..." he breathed and Lily swatted at his leg in a non-verbal attempt to tell him to not be so clumsy.

"We're leaving the ventilation shaft now," Lily whispered and the two of them dropped lightly to the floor below them, Ian putting the grate back in it's hole before they moved out.

* * *

"We're just about ready to enter the complex. I want you to find a place and stay there until Wong and Herring are in position," Patrick ordered and looked around at the others. "Ready to go?" Simone nodded, looking uneasy. "Right. We need to dispose of the bodies. Coulson, open the side door." Soon the slightly warm interior was freezing as the snowy air from outside whipped into the train car, as the three agents dropped the bodies off the train while Stella drew her sniper shot gun and took up watch.

"Any one sees us you shoot them," Alicia called as they were dumping the last of the corpses. "I think we're good." They backed away and Patrick slammed the door shut again, motioning for the others to sit down.

"I'm turning out the lights," he said and, in an instant, they all were plunged into darkness. "Well...time to wait." After a few minutes the rattling of the train changed pitch and in the gloom, Alicia sat up a little taller.

"We just went under ground. I'm pretty sure we're in." Demos nodded. "Reichen, Thompson, how are you two?"

"Uh...can I get back to you on that?" came Ian's barely audible voice. "We're almost in a bit of a fix here..."

"What do you mean _almost?_" the man hissed and fell quiet as the train came to a stop. "_We're_ in, now what's up with you?"

* * *

Lily and Ian were hiding in a deep shadow between two tall generators, hands on their weapons. The patrol that had marched past was alarmingly close and Lily had barely managed to grab her companion and pull him to safety, yanking him back so fast they nearly fell over. Once the clanking of their feet on the metal died away, they quickly slipped across the hall into the shadows once more, edging along the various bunkers and generators to electrical junction 47.

"We almost ran into a patrol," Ian breathed as he waited, eyeing the security camera above them carefully. "Alright I've got my three minute window I've got to go." Just when the camera turned to face the other end of the room for its three minute shift, the two SHIELD agents ran across to the stairwell, climbing it and coming to a stop before the metal cabinet.

"Two minutes forty-five seconds left," Lily whispered and the two of them opened the doors, quickly setting to work.

* * *

"That's us," Simone said and the group of people in the train stood up and quickly moved to the side door where they had dumped the bodies, sliding it open just enough for a person to slide through. "Go. Coulson, you're first." In her usual silence, the girl walked forward, not making a sound, looking more like a shadow than a human being. "Wong, Demos, let's go." They dropped lightly to their feet in that order and the pilot closed the door behind Sim.

"Alright. Time to split up. We'll head off first," the pilot whispered, and Demos nodded quickly as they hid behind cargo crates. Barely making a sound, the two women got to their feet, taking care to remain slightly hunched over, and ran out of sight, leaving Demos and Nightmare to wait in the dark.

"Stella," Patrick began, looking over at the dark form beside him. "I want you to know that you don't need to be like this." The head turned to face him. "What I mean is that you can talk to us. You don't need to keep everything you're thinking in your head all the time." The cowl turned to face forward once more, and the man sighed in aggravation when there was no response forthcoming. "Damn it, look. I was supposed to look after you. And if you go all crazy on me now, I failed at that." Nightmare turned to look at him once more, head tilting slowly to the side. He could almost hear the words she was thinking.

_I don't need looking after._

But before he could say anything else, she stood up and left their hiding place, ghosting through the shadows as though she were one of them and Patrick gaped as she passed right by people and they didn't notice. This was starting to get out of hand, he thought to himself. She was climbing up the side of the wall, using the plumbing there when she came to a stop by a large pulley that was holding a huge net which surrounded massive shipment of unmarked crates high above their heads. Feeling slightly uneasy, he watched her pull out her throwing knife, reach out, and start sawing. _I don't know what she's doing but I have a bad feeling about this...wait - what is she - _

There was a sudden hissing, rushing sound as the rope snapped and slid from the metal pulley, sending the crates and the net falling to the floor. Instinctively, he ducked down, covering his head and squeezing his eyes shut, curling in on himself to protect himself from whatever was going to happen.

It turned out that that was exactly what he needed to do since the world was suddenly a brilliant white that seemed almost impossible. In fact, the sensory overload of sight nearly outweighed the loud boom that accompanied the flash and set everyone's ears ringing.

_Flash bombs. Those were crates full of impact flash bombs..._Patrick realized blearily and felt someone grab his shoulder and haul him to his feet. Disoriented, he swung out clumsily, trying to hit whoever it was before him only to slam his hand against a hard metal cuff. Vibranium.

"Geez Coulson. Please tell me what you're going to do next time before you do it," he grumbled, rubbing at his eyes. He could just make out a shadowy silhouette before him that clearly matched his team member. "How did you get down so fast?"

"Jumped. Can you see?" He looked over at the blurred form before him, eyebrow raising fractionally at the voice that issued from the shadowed depths.

"Well, at least you're talking to me now...yeah. Yeah, I can see...for the most part. You're gonna have to cover for me though for a bit." He looked around themselves, noting the unconscious people around them. "How many crates did you drop?!"

"Ten." She took a firm grasp on his elbow and began leading him towards the door, gun in her hand. "Move fast, don't wait."

Patrick couldn't tell if she was talking to him or herself, and other than those few words, she didn't speak again.

"Demos, Coulson, we're in. That commotion you two made in the cargo bay drew off all the guards. We practically walked in," came Alicia's voice. "You're all good to go. Let's get in and get out." Nightmare nodded, and her companion shook his head a few times to clear it off the remaining fuzziness and off-color that remained from the bright light from the flash bombs. "The first few halls ahead of you two are clear. You know the route to the generators, but the third turn you take there are people there." Before Patrick could say anything, the person beside him took off running, feet making no noise on the metal as she flew down the halls like a wraith.

Knowing what he would find when he caught up, the older agent proceeded with more caution, knowing that it was best to not get in her way when their assassin started working.

"You just gonna let her do that again?" Simone asked from where she was watching the door once more, addressing the man over her comm. She knew Alicia was going to say something about Patrick not running after her, but this was just how things were going to work now. Didn't mean she had to like it or not question it.

"You know as well as I do that it's best to not get in her way when she gets working," came Patrick's voice and there was a triumphant "yes" muttered from behind the disguise master. "What is it?"

"Reichen, Thompson, I've got you guys covered. I control all surveillance so you can all move unhindered," the pilot said. "But you four, just because I've got you digitally hidden doesn't mean you can dawdle. Still move fast okay?" Simone closed the door and walked over to stand beside her friend, looking down at the many screens before her.

"So far so good..." she muttered. "Good work, Wong."

* * *

Unseen by any of them, a man was sitting in his office, reclining lazily in his chair as he sipped his coffee, looking at the computer screen before him as music played in the background. He laughed softly to himself, clearly amused by something. He sighed and took another sip of his steaming beverage before setting it back on the heavy oak desk before him and linking his hands behind his head.

"Here come the team," he chuckled, reaching out and hitting a button on the underside of his desk. "Section 14, I think it's time we let our little guests know that we know they're here...remember, you let the girl get to me. I've got my snipers set up and my glass. I'll be fine. You have my personal go ahead to make sure you kill everyone else. Then, once she gets to me...and I have my fun...I'll give the go ahead for my guards to finish her. Permanently." He released the pressure on the small button and sat back in his chair, looking at the three security feeds before him.

"You just think that you've hacked into all my systems Agents Reichen, Herring, Wong, and Thompson. Oh but you lot are so predictable...and so, _so _easy to fool. You've gotten too comfortable." He shifted his attention from electrical junction 47 and the security control center to look at the two remaining members creeping along the shadows, heading for their generators. "You think you're infallible, don't you...Stella Coulson." He scoffed, looking at the SHIELD files in his drawer. "But Patrick Demos is not going to be able to keep you on track forever. When he's gone...when they all are...we'll see your true colors. And then you'll make a mistake. And then I'll have that outfit of yours hanging in a frame on my wall and I'll give your body to my dogs." He laughed again and watched everything start to unfold.

"Now...how long do you remain loyal? How long can you retain any level of sanity?" he mused and laughed as her predictable nature took over. "That's it...come to finish me off..." He sniggered and looked at the door, lacing his fingers together behind his head once more.

And waited.

* * *

"Alright we are almost online here and - "

"IAN!" Lily shouted, standing up and turning around in panic. Her hand fell to her holster and she was about to pull out her gun when her opponent made his move first, stabbing forward with all of his strength, as though he were spearing something. There was a loud crack as the barrel of the gun broke something in the technician's right shoulder and knocked her into the wall and onto the floor, bluetooth falling to the floor beside her. In spite, the man leered down at her and crushed the device under his heel and leveled the machine gun at her.

_Mercenaries_, she thought to herself in paralyzed fear._ These are _mercenaries. _These people are skilled.__  
_

"OI!" Ian shouted and swung the back of the screwdriver in his hand into the man's head, dazing him but doing little else. In the precious few seconds he had, the weapon's developer pulled out his gun, only to have it get knocked from his hand as the well trained soldier wrapped his hands around his throat. On the floor, Lily pushed herself up with one arm, fumbling to get her gun out with her shaking hands. There was a pounding of running footsteps and the woman looked to her side at the stairwell leading up to the electrical box they had infiltrated. The dark bouncing bob of a helmet came into view. After casting one more furtive glance at her struggling Ian, she came to a decision.

She swung her left arm to face the newcomers and started firing.

* * *

In his office, Simon Cormack laughed to himself once more, still listening to his music as he looked at the unlocked and unguarded door, waiting. "Come right on up here, Stella Coulson."

_You may run for a long time, run on for a long time, run on for a long time. Let me tell you that God is gonna cut you down. __Let me tell you that God is gonna cut you down._


End file.
